


Sunset Chasers

by primmfaktor



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst, Best friends Yuto/Keito, Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Issues, Fluff, Football | Soccer, Humor, M/M, Mentions of Chinen/Ryutaro, Minor Injuries, OT9 friendship, Photography, Pining, Side Inoo/Daiki, Slow Burn, Summer, Texting, Underage Drinking, aka me trying to write about things i don't know, and here comes the good old tag, because everyday I Try, idiots to lovers, implied depression, oh yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primmfaktor/pseuds/primmfaktor
Summary: "Wouldn't it be amazing?"
Relationships: Nakajima Yuto/Yamada Ryosuke
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65
Collections: JUMPing Fic Carnival 2019





	Sunset Chasers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chocolatecrack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatecrack/gifts).



> Dear recipient:  
> The first thing I think when I look at this fic is: what the hell. The second one is: I am so sorry. If you are not a fan of long fics, I'm sorry :c This fic wasn't even supposed to pass the 10K and now I have no words to explain the mess that happened here. Also, even though there's summer, this might not be exactly what you requested, but I really hope you like it or at least it makes you smile. There's a very vulnerable part of me in here, so I can assure you this was made with a lot of love and care.
> 
> ps1: I'm a fan of your writting so I'm kindoffreakingout haHA okay, I'll shut up.  
> ps2: there's a playlist I listened to as I was writing this! If you are interested I can share it c:  
> ps3: Blonde!Yamada, but like, the blonde hairstyle he had when he was playing Semi, maybe a bit more darker.
> 
> WARNINGS for swearing words, underage drinking, implied depression, family issues and Yuto Being Whipped.
> 
> Title taken from "Sunset Chaser" by The Ragamuffs.
> 
> enjoy c:

Pull me close and let me hold you in  
Give me the deeper understanding of who I am

_Pain_ , The War On Drugs

Yuto is going to be really honest: he’s not the best at taking right decisions.

For the record, he’s not being a drama queen—although his friends would surely have a word to say about that—and this is not his low self-esteem talking here, because the empirical evidence is just too big to not accept the sad reality of his poor life choices.

Like when he was six and wanted to prove if the _no tears_ shampoo was actually tear proof, only to discover that it was because you no longer had eyes after that. Or the one time he thought it would be cool to ride down from the longest slide of the park with his new bike, just to impress the other kids (which he partially achieved, since no one of them had ever seen a broken wrist in three different parts) and of course, we cannot forget his first experience with alcohol, when he genuinely believed he could drink ten tequila shots in a row but exactly 9.6 minutes later passed out on the stairs landing at Keito's house (and according to The Video On Inoo’s Phone That No One Is Allowed To Talk About Ever Again, he didn’t even get to six shots.)

Anyways. Live life to the fullest, or whatever. That’s what his dad always says and Yuto is not here to disappoint his old man.

Also, Yuto is starting to wonder if there were any in-between lines he didn’t quite catch because dad will definitely not be happy about this.

“For God’s sake, what in the world were you two _thinking_?”

Yuto contains his breath for a moment and his jaw sets, suppressing a wince of pain, his split upper lip just stopped bleeding five minutes ago. Next to him, Ryosuke Yamada has a blue bruise on his left cheek that’s starting to look bigger with every passing second, eyes fixing on a corner of her desk like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

They are in Ms. Watanabe’s office—the vice principal’s office. It’s a room that could be as tiny as Yuto’s own room, filled with furniture that has definitely seen better days and a pair of orange curtains that are too bright for Yuto’s liking. The air-con is on at least, cool air setting a nice temperature compared with the hell unleashed outside.

She looks at them with this expression on her face—one that you can’t tell if she’s mad or sad or disappointed or all together, and Yuto wouldn’t care about it if it wasn’t for the fact that she’s actually a nice human being; not one of those dictatorial vice principals that has a frown tattooed on their face twenty-four-seven. And that single detail sort of makes this situation one hundred times worse.

No. Two hundred. Because this time, even Yuto recognizes that _maaaaybe_ he did overreact a little.

“Ms. Watanabe, with all respect, he punched me first,” Ryosuke hisses. “If there’s anyone you should be asking that question it’s _him_.”

Overreact? Fuck overreact, Yamada absolutely deserved it.

“Did I punch you too hard, Yamada? Or are you just real stupid and don’t remember why all this started in the first place?”

Ryosuke bites back in an instant. “You mean when you came and beat me in the face like an animal?”

“Wow, totally memory loss. Don’t worry, we can go to see the broken window of the music room to refresh your super tiny brain.”

“I told you it was an accident—”

“How do you _accidentally_ kick a ball from the soccer field right to a second-floor window—”

“Well then stop to think for a second—”

“And this is not the first time you—”

“Oh right, ‘cause you’re goddamn saint—”

“—so, excuse me if I don’t want to listen—”

“—and maybe if you tried to be like a normal human being—”

“—maybe if you were actually good at soccer at all—”

“The fuck did you say, assho—”

“ _Enough._ ”

Her voice makes a clean cut on their argument. Yuto breaks the murderous staring contest with Yamada and when he adjusts himself in the seat, he realizes they were leaning towards each other a bit, unevenly breathing. Yamada’s cheeks in a soft but noticeable tone of red.

But Ms. Watanabe frown is even deeper than before, so they remain silent.

“I couldn’t care less about who started it at this point. Actually, I’m not even going to ask what happened because let me tell you something, darlings,” she clasps her hand on the desk, and Yuto doesn’t like the fact that his mind flashes some scenes from “The Godfather” all of sudden. “I, we, teachers in general, are absolutely tired of your behaviors—yes, Yamada, I’m mean the two of you.”

Among the sea of guiltiness, Yuto can’t help to embrace the spark of joy that causes to see that not even top student Yamada will get out of this.

The principal goes on. “This has got out of hands now. How could ever reach such a low level of punching each other like animals in front of a whole crowd? What do you think this is? A boxing ring?”

Yuto and Ryosuke shake their heads.

“And—God, I’m really not trying to be the bad person in all this, but this kind of things could make it on your records, guys,” Yamada’s eyes widen. “Physical aggression is obviously considered as an inappropriate behavior since it breaks the high school’s objective of creating a safe environment for our students. _This_ ,” she taps her desk with her index finger. “Could be considered a very serious violation of rules. And I cannot let it pass.”

Yuto swallows.

“Huh. We are sorry,” way to sound convinced.

“It’s not enough,” the principal states. This sounds like she always wanted to say this to them. “Because—you see, this is not a one-time thing. Since day one in this high school you two have done nothing but be at each other’s throats. I’ve had complaints from teachers about how you’re constantly disrupting their class with your arguments, which—I can’t understand since I know you’re good and smart and kind, why don’t you put those virtues on practice to be nice with each other?”

“Ms. Watanabe,” Ryosuke calmly says. “I totally understand your point but, that is exactly why this is so unfair and his fault.”

This guy, seriously.

“Yamada,” Yuto grits his teeth. “You. Broke. A Window.”

“And I already told you, I was training with the soccer team and—okay, yeah I mean, maybe I kicked the ball a bit harder than I wanted—”

“You threw it right to the second floor, directly to the classroom that just _happened_ to be the one I had assigned for cleaning duty today, why would I think that wasn’t a coincidence?

“Because it was!”

_Bullshit_ , Yuto wants to scream but doesn’t find the words to evidence the contrary.

Because he knows, he just _knows_ Yamada was conscious of it, a flashing memory of looking down through the shattered glass to check who had done it, only to see across the soccer field, people from the team with shocked expression but Yamada was just standing there, his lopsided smile when they made eye-contact and Yuto, still with his heart pounding in his throat, felt the anger raise up, taking over his body and the next thing he knew was to be jumping down the stairs and crossing the field like a man on a mission, landing a fist right to Yamada’s left cheek, pleasantly erasing that smile on his face.

“Okay,” she sighs but looks determined. “This ends today.”

Suddenly, she’s looking at them like the greatest idea just struck on her mind.

“M-Ms. Watanabe, of course, I’ll pay for the broken window.” Yamada tries to say.

She shakes her head. “That won’t be necessary. Actually, I’m not even gonna give you detention or suspend you,” that should be reassuring but her tone says this is about to go down.

“Miss?”

“Mr. Nakajima,” she ignores them. “Your Algebra teacher handed me the results of your latest exams,” Yuto’s breath hitches. “This is your second F in the semester in a row.”

How.

How is that relevant now. How does this day keep getting worse that it already is. Yamada is literally one of the top students in… basically everything, why is that worth of mention when he’s right fucking _here_.

“So, I’ve decided to assign you a tutor,” she explains. “Someone who can help you study and answer all the possible questions you may have for the next test—why are you smiling, Mr. Yamada?”

This fucker.

“No, I—no reason, Miss.”

It sounds like a shameless lie but the principal literally beams in her seat. “Good. You are about to have one!”

Yamada blinks. So, does Yuto.

“Because you’re going to be Mr. Nakajima’s tutor from now on.”

Silence fills the office.

Yuto and Ryosuke stare at her like she just told them she murdered both their families.

Ms. Watanabe smiles widely, looking way too pleased with herself.

And somewhere, God laughs.

☼

If you ask anyone here what are the most iconic things of Horikoshi High School, there would be three possible answers:

  1. French Fries Wednesday (or more like the one time that kid, Arioka Daiki, actually had a mental breakdown when they replaced them with low-fat roast potatoes for Healthy Life Awareness Week.)



  1. The toilets in the second floor (the soap dispenser is always full? There’s always toilet paper? And the cubicles are always clean, how on earth are they _always_ clean, what kind of dark magic is this?)



  1. Yamada and Nakajima’s rivalry.



Which it’s—way less epic than how it sounds, people do not get involved in heated debates in the hallways fighting for who’s in Team Yamada or Team Nakajima, they don’t hold their breaths whenever the tension between the two of them gets almost tangible in class. Instead, it’s a lot closer to an annoyed sigh, a roll of eyes and a tired _“Ugh, Nakajima and Yamada are back at it, again”._

They met for the first time in kindergarten when Yamada threw the water of his watercolors at Yuto’s face for not paying attention to the activity they were assigned to do. Then, they met again in high school, but it took less than a month to target each other as the enemy.

From that point on, they started to fight over everything. Everything. Ryosuke would be singing pop songs and Yuto would laugh from a corner of the classroom loud enough for Yamada to hear and go off about how some people really have no taste in music. Or Yuto would be doing a presentation in front of the class and suddenly Ryosuke would have a cough crisis during the most important part. Their English teacher learned in the hard way that you cannot do even a simple debate when they happened to be in the same classroom, at least not since the one time he asked the class their opinions about the best Shakespeare play for them, because Ryosuke would immediately answer Romeo and Juliet only to be followed by Yuto’s snarky remarks, because _what a cliché you are, Yamada_. And then, Ryosuke would say something about lack of tolerance. Then Yuto would tell him to go to hell. Then Ryosuke would call him a fucking jerk. Then, they would end up in detention.

Is not that they are certified troublemakers. Funny thing is that, separately, they are a completely different story.

Yamada is popular. Like ‘ _half of the school turn their heads to say hi to me during lunch’_ popular, with a friend count on Instagram that Yuto could never ever get close to, even if he added all the people he met in this and all his past lives (not that he’s, you know, checking his Instagram on a daily basis, don’t be ridiculous). Last year, he took the leadership in the soccer team and is always taking part in the student council, actively participating and supporting various school activities and programs.

As for Yuto… well.

He’s a sophomore too. He has basically hung out around the same people through his entire life. His parents just got divorced and he’s currently failing Algebra. He helps his dad at his bakery almost every day and likes to take nostalgic pictures of sunsets while listening to angsty songs. Yeah.

Anyone would think there’s no reason for Yuto to dislike Yamada and okay, maybe they’d be right and Yuto would try to be civil and diplomatic, but then Yamada would do something and Yuto’s entire existence would scream war and _not civil_.

When it comes to Yamada Ryosuke all logical thoughts instantly seem to jump out the window like a reflex movement, the need to fight every single word that comes out of his mouth stronger than any other thing.

But again, he’s not a bad person. He’s just… pretty bad at making his life easier.

☼

“Oh my God,” Hikaru says.

“Shut up.”

“Oh my _God,_ ” Yabu repeats.

“I said shut up!”

“This is tragic,” Inoo ads.

“One more word, guys. I fucking dare you.”

“No, wait—this is _gold_.” Okamoto says after exploding into another fit of laughter.

In front of him, Hikaru is staring at Yuto like he had just told him he bought him a cat. Next to him, Yabu stopped looking at his phone, the soccer match he was watching a while ago still going but he's too busy now gaping at Yuto. At his side, Inoo has this… face that can only mean he’s intensely judging him, and Keito seems to have problems to breathe normally with how much he’s laughing. Maybe no one will notice if Yuto slowly creeps his hands around his neck and actually strangles him.

Today, the high school cafeteria is full to the brim, students coming in waves non-stop through the entrance, even though each table is already occupied until the last chair. It’s a cacophony of loud and excited chatter, a vibrant atmosphere that can only be attributed to the beginning of the much-awaited summer break. There’s even someone singing _“I’m walking on sunshine, wooooow,”_ somewhere, loudly and very off-key. When Yuto made his way to the cafeteria after class, it was already flooded with people but he sighed in relief when he saw his friends already eating lunch at their usual spot.

Everyone has gotten rid of their blazers and sweater vests because it’s hot as hell in here, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows and ties a little bit loose on their neck. After Yuto bought lunch—there were no more slices of pizza left so he had to content himself with a who-knows-what sandwich and apple juice, but hey, at least it’s Ice Cream Wednesday—he sat in his usual spot next to Keito and Yabu. When he had arrived, Yabu had seemed to be intensely focused on watching his phone as he unconsciously picked up fries from the plate by his side without noticing they were not actually his, but Hikaru’s. As for him, Yaotome wasn’t even paying attention at his best friend stealing his lunch, deeply engrossed in what seemed a very serious discussion with Inoo.

(“—the fuck are you saying? Hermione and Harry had a total functional and healthy friendship, why in the world couldn’t that be the basis for a romantic development?”

“Oh yeah, Hikaru, because every single relationship has to start like a fairy tale. Get the fuck out of your bubble.”

“They _respect_ each other.”

“Your point? All friends are supposed to do that, dumbass.”

“Well yeah, which is my _point_ , you dense sack of potatoes, because the only thing Ron knew to do was being jealous and getting into petty fights, like, 60% of the books!”

“Are you really _really_ gonna pretend like the whole scene with Ron defending Hermione after Malfoy called her the M-word doesn’t exist? My boy didn’t end up vomiting slugs for hours for you to call him _petty_.”

“Listen up, you fucker, according to Freud’s model of psyche—”

“Are you going philosophical on me? The fuck?”

“Ignorant bitch, it’s called _psychoanalysis_.”

“Guys, please. We all know the superior ship is Draco and Harry.”

“Fuck off, Keito.”)

And as for Keito, good old Keito, he was playing his guitar like he did every single day during lunch and basically every break they had, going through the same freaking songs again and again until he spotted Yuto.

And because Keito couldn’t be discreet even if his life depended on it, he asked Yuto why did he look like he had just watched The Conjuring with headphones at max volume, loud enough for everyone at the table to hear clearly and snap their heads towards him faster than the speed of light.

Hence, this current moment.

“Summer tutoring!” Hikaru cries, unable to believe it.

“With _Yamada_.”

“Your _eternal_ nemesis.”

“Your number _one_ enemy—”

“Is not like he has another one, he’s not that badass.”

“—as a _tutor_.”

“On _Summer_.”

“Summer _vacations_ —"

“Geez, guys. Thanks for the clarification, I thought the principal’s scolding wasn’t clear enough.”

“Oh, you went to the principal’s office?” Inoo asks slightly surprised. “Is it true she has four kittens hidden under his desk?”

Yabu gapes now at Inoo. “She has _what_ now?”

“What does summer tutoring even mean?" Hikaru asks and then throws a murderous gaze at Keito. “Stop laughing!”

Before Yuto can answer, Inoo says, “Yamada has to help Yuto with math during summer, basically. In exchange, the principal can upgrade Yamada’s lowest test,” he explains. "I did one last summer, remember?"

"Oh yeah. You almost killed that poor freshman."

"Isn’t Watanabe being a little too innocent about this? These two have never agreed on anything!” Keito says.

“My exact words, bro.” Yuto says and both high-five.

“I give them an hour before they start to throw hands again.” Yabu says

“I give them half an hour,” Keito replies, grabbing his guitar again

Yuto shakes his head. “You two are too hopeful, I give us five minutes.” At that, Hikaru leans to hit his head. “Ouch! Why did you do that?!”

“Because you are an idiot?” he scowls. “Instead of already planning to get on the kid’s nerves you should be taking advantage of having someone who could help you with Algebra. For all I know, Yamada is really good at it.”

Inoo nods. “Yeah, I can confirm. He is in my Advanced Algebra class.”

“And you should also be grateful Watanabe is giving you guys a second chance. I mean, you beat the shit out of each other in front of the whole soccer team and the people who was passing around, that could have costed you your fucking graduations at some point!” Hikaru adds and Yuto sinks a little in his seat. “Also, there are more ways to prove that Yamada actually broke that by accident—not saying it's true!” he hurries to say when Yuto opens his mouth to retort. “But you have to analyze it from an outsider’s perspective. If the principal had to punish someone harder, it would have been you. And even if she hadn’t, you are still failing Algebra this semester. You _do_ need the help.”

Yuto's stomach drops, because his friends are right. He needs to pass this damn class to graduate at some point and it’s not like he can ask them for help this summer: Hikaru usually leaves to his grandma’s house and even if he always offers to facetime to help him, Yuto doesn’t like to disturb him; Inoo’s is currently in the middle of a huge project with his Physics teacher to get him a scholarship in one of the best Architecture universities of the country and he comes to class everyday with deep purple eyebags and a giant cup of coffee that he downs in less than two minutes. Keito and him share the same brain cell for anything related with numbers so maybe Yuto could help him a bit if by chance something good comes out of this, and as for Yabu…

(“I could help!” Yabu insists.

Keito frowns at him. “Last time you did, you brought us to the soccer field, told Yuto to do a corner-kick to calculate speed of the ball and gave him a yellow card.”

“He kicked before I blew the whistle!”

“But I didn’t know that!”

“And then, you gave him a _red_ card.”

“He was contradicting the referee!”

“Kota, what the _fuck._ ”)

So yeah, he is basically alone in this boat.

Let’s be clear, is not like Yuto was actually thinking of avoiding any contact with school this semester but he did intend to avoid contact with Ryosuke Yamada for a couple of months and now he’s stuck in having personalizes classes with the guy. Top five of Yuto’s worst nightmares. Or maybe top three.

Yuto sighs and suppresses the need to lie on the table and mope about how the world hates him.

Keito pats him gently in the back. “There, there. It's not the end of the world, my giant friend. Look at the silver lining, you are lucky this isn’t even gonna make it to your permanent records,” Keito adjusts the trust rod of his guitar and plays some chords. “Dad once told me punishments in this high school were much worse back in his days. One time he got summer detention, which—was sort of cleaning duty, I think? He learned a lot about wall painting, though.”

“How in the world did he get summer detention?” Hikaru asks, both horrified and amazed.

A minor chord. “He got in a fight”.

“Why?”

“Huh, I mean. I don’t know if it’s labeled as fight, it was more like… food war? During an English test? They wanted the teacher to cancel it because no one studied,” Keito explains. Yuto can’t help the small smile on his face, because he knows this story. “Mr. Nakajima and dad had it planned for weeks, and when the day came, dad started to sing happy birthday to Mr. Nakajima with a piece of cake on his hand right before the test started. They all thought it was his actual birthday and sang along. When it ended, dad threw the cake at Mr. Nakajima’s face,” C7 chord. “It all went down from there.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.” Yuto snorts and continues. “Room 401, fourth floor. The one we use for biology sometimes? They had to spend the whole summer break cleaning food remains, but ended up painting the walls pink after realizing ketchup stains can’t be removed that easily. They are still visible, actually.”

At this, Yabu hits Inoo’s shoulder, looking offended. “You told me those were blood stains from a massacre in the 19th century!”

“Did I?” Inoo raises a perfect eyebrow. “Was it before or after lunch?”

“Why—? I think it was before.”

“Ah, yes. I can’t function without food. I just wanted you to shut up, then.”

“Anyways, when are you starting?”

“Hell if I know,” Yuto says, remembering how Yamada practically jumped from the sit and flee out of the office door in a blink.

“Huh. By any chance, did you decide to talk about it during lunch?” Hikaru suddenly asks, looking for something above Yuto’s shoulder.

“Nope. Why?”

Hikaru gaze falls to the three fries left on his plate. “‘Because I think he’s—yep. He’s coming here.”

Yuto’s back goes rigid in a second and there’s a weird sensation tingling in the back of his neck. Keito at his side, keeps playing random chords on his guitar but has an amused smile playing on his face that Yuto wants to wipe off. But Yabu does turn around, unfortunately.

“Hey, Yamada! How are you doing?” Yabu greets him cheerfully and Yuto doesn’t need to turn back to know Yamada is smiling at his friend.

“I’m good! How’s everything?” he says. Yuto wants to roll his eyes for… for no reason. 

“Nothing new, really. How are practices? Are you guys ready for the Summer Tournament?”

Yamada sighs. “There’s a lot to improve yet, but we are doing our best, I guess.”

Yuto is digging holes at his half-eaten sandwich. A lot to improve? Don’t they have practices, like, four times a week?

Next to him, Yabu nods. “Ah, such a perfectionist. But that’s what makes you an awesome captain!” This time, Yuto does roll his eyes. Yabu actually hangs around a lot with some people form the soccer team, even goes to all the high school matches to cheer for the team. Yuto himself has gone once and—okay, he has to admit Yamada is good. Not a personal opinion at all, this is absolutely supported by objective evidence and the numerous times the team had won since Yamada is captain, so it would be kind of stupid to even try to deny it.

“Thank you, we appreciate all the support,” Yamada says and they all fall into an awkward silence.

Yuto notices how some heads around them have turned towards them, curious.

The tingles at the back of his neck are harder.

Yamada clears his throat before saying. “Nakajima,” he calls him and—really, the change in the tone of his voice shouldn’t even surprise him at this point, but just by pronouncing Yuto’s name it goes from rainbows to _murder_. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

His response is automatic. “I think you’ve just had it. And those were a lot of words in too many seconds, actually.”

Someone, either Hikaru or Inoo, kicks him underneath the table. From how his eye is twitching with annoyance, Yuto’s money is on Hikaru.

“Look, I need to—”

“Okay, okay. Whatever,” he’s up in an instant. “Lead the way, O captain, my captain.”

☼

Outside of the cafeteria, Yamada wastes no time.

“Listen. You and I know this is not gonna work, but by the way Watanabe seems to have lost her mind about this whole… tutoring thing, it looks like we don't have another choice unless you nail the next exam.”

“Or you can always tell her you _did_ tutor me during summer and that’s the end of it? C’mon, dude. I thought you were the smart one here.”

“Unlike you, it’s not my style be lying to people, Nakajima.”

“Of course it’s not. Good golden boy Yamada is as noble as a man in shiny armor.”

“Might as well save your ass in Algebra, then.” Yamada says. “Look. You don’t wanna be here. I don’t wanna be here. And as much as lying to the principal is quite tempting, she knows my mom because they go to the same gym together. We would get caught either way.”

“So what?” Yuto asks “Are you telling me you are _really_ willing to try this? I’m not gonna bear with your bullshit for two months, Yamada.”

“Neither do I,” Yamada agrees. This gotta be a first between the two of them. “That’s why I’m proposing a truce. Not insulting each other, or this may end up worse than what we already have,” Yamada says under his breath. “That’s not-negotiable. Is the basis of this whole thing to work out, unless you want to get us in real trouble.”

“Dude,” Yuto can’t help to snap. “We haven’t even begun with this and you’re already making me sound like the jerk one.”

Yamada shrugs. “I don’t want to pay for the window and as much as I would like you suspended for punching me like a madman—”

Yuto scoffs. “Please, you hit back in the same beat.”

“It’s called self-defense—”

Yuto laughs. “You’re not very good at negotiations, are you?”

Yamada’s lips tightens. He looks like he’s about to have a headache. “Okay, okay,” he sighs. Under the golden light of the sunset filtering through the hallway windows, Yamada’s honey blonde hair shines like melted gold, and the features of his face get sharper. “Wednesdays and Saturdays. It has to be in the afternoon, after lunch 'cause I’m busy in the mornings.”

“Where?”

“We can go to my house."

Why are they still having this conversation, Yuto is tired. “Okay.”

“Yeah, fine. Twice a week. No insults. I teach you what you need to pass. You learn and ace that exam. Watanabe is happy and doesn’t bother us anymore. After the exam, everything goes back to normal,” This should be the part when Yamada offers his hand to seal the deal but obviously, that’s not what happens. It dawns Yuto that he has never touched Yamada, apart from the couple of fists they gave each other. “Do we have a deal? Pretty sure I’m not asking anything too crazy here.”

_This whole thing is crazy,_ Yuto can’t help to think but doesn’t say it. “Sure. Whatever.”

Yamada frowns and looks like he wants to say something else, but only nods, and then he’s opening the cafeteria door and going back to his table, the one surrounded with people from the soccer team and popular students. One of his best friends, Chinen Yuri, receives him with a playful expression and Yamada shakes his head with a roll of eyes, but immediately breaks into easy smiles with everyone around him.

Right. That was who Yamada really is. Someone friendly, nice, that seemed to be happy with the littlest things. An entire side that’s not reserved to Yuto to see and only look from a corner.

Sometimes, Yuto can’t help but think that there’s gotta be something about him. It can’t only be his looks. People get drawn by him in a way that’s almost magnetic, natural. Is it the way he smiles back, like he’s actually happy to talk to you? Is it the way his eyes narrow if he laughs? Or the way his features seem so delicate but sharp at the same time? It has to be something else because Yuto certainly has found himself more than once looking his way, without even realizing, without even meaning to, like there's a mysterious force that makes him turn around, an unconscious fear of missing a detail, a warning sign. ‘Know your enemy’ they say, so Yuto makes sure to pay enough attention at the details, how Yamada’s expression change when he’s excited, how he eats in silence but seems to be aware of everything around him, how he wrinkles his nose at some comment or loud noise.

But then, in those seconds he’d had spent contemplating, Yuto would notice how his breathing would be contained and immediately would looks away to focus on something else. Breathing like a normal person again, instead of feeling like a creep.

So, this time, Yuto just watches him go.

☼

When he gets home, the first thing he realizes is the empty garage. Dad usually comes a bit after dinner so it’s not like he was expecting him to be at home anyways.

But Raiya is, and he’s seating in the main couch watching Matrix on the TV, and as soon as he sees Yuto’s split lip, he frowns and goes to grab a pack of ice without saying a word. Yuto doesn’t know if he should be relieved of someone not making questions or offended by the lack of importance his little brother seems to give it—yeah, full offense because he’d be madly worried if roles were reversed. He takes the ice and mutters out a thank you.

“Why are you pouting?” Raiya asks instead, not affected by Yuto’s pout at all. Damn it.

“I’m not,” Yuto pouts harder. “Don’t look at me like coming home beaten up it’s a current thing of me!”

“I know it’s not,” Raiya goes back to the couch and presses play on the movie he was previously watching. “Seeing you make your life harder is the current thing, though,” Yuto slumps in the couch next to his brother. Presses the ice against the corner of his mouth and lets out a pained groan. “How was the other guy?”

“Bruised.” Yuto answers, remembering how Yamada’s purple-ish cheek.

“No blood? I taught you better.”

“Shut up,” Yuto chuckles, beating his arm. “How was school?”

“Ah, you know. Same old. At least classes are over for a while. Teachers still talk about high school like apocalypse is coming, though. Nothing new, really.”

“Sounds like a party,” Yuto leans against the cushions. “Dad?”

“Bakery. Called him two hours ago to remind him lunch was something people still do in the twenty-one century, even if they worked all day,” Raiya accommodates in the couch. “Now shut up and let me watch my movie.”

“You’ve seen it, like, fifty times.”

“Never say I didn’t. Can you bring me a can of Coke? The ones at the top of the freezer, I’m melting here.”

“I have a split lip.”

“Okay, Mister I Have a Split Lip. Bring me a Coke.”

Yuto rolls his eyes but gets up anyways. He enters the kitchen, the entire room bathed in the orange glow of the golden hour. The cans of Coke are piled up in the first shelve of the freezer and Yuto kind of wishes he could stay a bit more in there, the coolness so welcoming to the heat atmosphere around the house.

He seats in the couch again and they fall into a comfortable silence. In the TV, Morpheus is offering Neo a red pill and a blue pill, and that’s the only sound in the house, along with the metallic clinks the cans make when they grab them. Yuto wants to ask something else but Raiya seems to be in a good mood, so he decides to dismiss it.

Summers are always so fucking hot and in the beginning, it seems like they are going to last forever, but all of sudden, there are only two days before it’s over. Aside from going out with his friends (and now having tutoring sessions with Yamada), Yuto usually watches a lot of TV shows and anime. If not, he spends the days listening to music in the old vinyl player Mr. Okamoto gave him for his sixteenth birthday, or goes to the beach and takes photos of people, of the sand, the ocean, the sky or whatever that helps him fill up his personal photo collection in a way that looks aesthetic.

After the credits roll, they both go upstairs and leave to their respective bedrooms. Yuto spends the rest of the day wandering around in his room, watching on his laptop two episodes of the latest season of Stranger Things. After that, he lies on his bed, scrolling through social media when a text from Keito asking in the group chat what are they gonna do in summer pops in, but Yuto doesn’t feel like replying.

Three hours pass and by the time Sublime’s entire discography comes to an end for what’s probably the fifth time, Yuto tosses his phone next to him and closes his eyes, but he opens them again after understanding he isn’t going to get any sleep, although his body feels like a bag of rocks. There’s too much white noise inside his head right now.

But summers are like this. They come like this. Not on the last week of June or when the first clear sky arrives. It comes in the lingering hours, the time passing in a pace so slow and lazy but Yuto’s still there to watch it, like he is the only thing in the world that’s just stuck, not an intention to move an inch from the bed because it’s so fucking hot and he can only pray for the heat to go down, even if he’s long ago gotten rid of his school uniform to wear a worn-out black tank top and boxers.

Yuto rolls over his back in the mattress, eyes staring at the whiteness of the ceiling, trying to make new connections between the dirt spots on it but they are always the same pattern. Sunlight is trailing shapes of gold on every surface of his room and when the sunbeams catches the skin of his left arm, he turns to one side, facing the wall to avoid it. Some minutes pass and the rays are more intense. His phone buzzes with a new text. Yuto doesn’t even spare it a glance. Instead, he turns to the other side and his eyes land on a corner beneath this desk, a small black bag resting on the floor.

He could do it. He could get up, grab the camera bag, go outside and ride on his bike to the beach that’s near the neighborhood before the sunset begins. He could choose a spot in the sand, the warmth of the summer breeze caressing his locks and his skin would probably get showered in all different tones of oranges or red or even pinks. He almost can feel it, the weight of the camera on his hands, checking the right lent to capture images the way he wants to, fingers itching to feel the way they click when he adjusts them in the camera. Dad wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon so there wouldn’t be problems to arrive before it gets dark, and even it gets dark and he arrives before him, he could just jump the garden gate and sneak in through the window kitchen, steps quietly going upstairs. It would be so easy; the beach is so close to where he lives but his mind feels so distant. No one would notice, he knows no one would because he’s done it before. He’s done it before, he could do it now. He could do it.

But no matter how much the impulse of getting up rages inside his chest, it doesn’t spread around his body. The spark is there, but there’s too much empty space and nothing catches on fire. There’s no sound, no heartbeats electrifying his senses. The only thing that feels real is the bed under him, the heat of the room, the sound of car engines passing outside and the golden patches going from bright yellows to nostalgic oranges, eventually turning cold blue and dark, a sky filled with stars peaking between the light blue curtains of his window.

It’s evening now, but that’s okay. He closes his eyes even if he knows sleep won’t come around, even if the room has been reprieved from light long time ago, it’s alright.

It’s okay.

He’s never been afraid of the dark, anyways. 

☼

It’s a week after when Yuto finds going to Yamada’s house. For a quick second, Yuto considers driving his dad’s car, but apparently no one’s at home again and the car keys are not in the key hook, so he just hops on his bike and goes.

The summer breeze is all over him as soon as his old bike meets the road. Vacations have already started and Yuto has already finished the third season of Stranger Things, the last episode in Keito’s room along with Yabu, both of them shattered in tears on the last episode, which, didn’t bothered Yuto at all, since they forgot about the popcorn and he could eat it all himself. He also helped his dad at the bakery, who by the way was still mad at him for getting in a fight and even grounded him—well, as much as the word “grounded” applied when it only meant his dad made a spinach pastries-catering with him and Yuto hates spinach with the burn of a thousand suns, so there’s that.

He rides down the hill, gaining speed, the spokes of the wheels blur and at some point, he stops pedaling, just letting gravity do its work as he goes with the motion, feeling every rise and fall of the path and the mess that was going on his head reduces to the passing scenes.

Turning on a corner, he soon hits the seaside walk, one of Yuto’s favorite places in the world. Yuto used to come here, without telling anyone, to practice photography on his own and still did it, until a year ago when he lost the spark to do it. His peripheral vision gets splashed by the vast colors of the houses and small local stores around the coast area, the beach more crowded than it was in the rest of the year. Yamada’s house is in one of the most beautiful neighborhoods of the city because it’s right next to the beach and Yuto can bet the view from it must be gorgeous.

Yuto has never had a tutor in his life, not even his kindergarten teachers had enough patience to deal with him because he was one of those kids that liked to chase everyone around with a bug on his hand or sang all the morning-songs by exaggerating every word for no reason at all.

The whole tutoring thing itself it’s kind of weird and the fact that is Yamada of all people the one in charge to do it makes it one hundred times more humiliating and definitely not the way he wanted to spend this summer. Really, if someone had told him he would be voluntarily cycling to his house as soon as break started, he would have been more shocked than if someone told him God did exist. Actually, that would be super awesome in comparison because Yuto would have someone to send his life complaint letter.

Has Yamada ever said hi to him? Has Yuto ever? Have they ever smiled at each other? The only reality Yuto knows here is narrowed to murderous glares, insults and snarky remarks, a way of interacting that has been for so long he’s never thought about the possibility of other way of interacting. There’s no way Yamada teaches him something. And there’s no chance Yuto is strong enough to deal with his presence before going absolutely out of his mind in failed attempts to see the logical side of this situation.

The number of Yamada’s house comes in sight while he’s deep in thought and almost misses it. The houses of the entire neighborhood are like cut out from a House & Home magazine, and this one is not the exception. It’s a large, blue, two-story house, kind of vintage styled, with an impressive well taken care front garden that could make his dad cry tears of joy. Yuto walks along the stone path with his bicycle attached to his side, fearing the wheels could ruin the impeccable cut green grass and he leaves it leaning on a wall, next to a bush of yellow daffodils. He goes up the three-step stairs until he reaches the entrance, and just when he’s about to ring the bell, the nearby sound of a car engine makes him turn around his heels.

It’s a white Hyundai and it parks right in front of the house. After a second it dawns Yuto that, _hey,_ this might be Yamada’s family car so maybe he should say hello before even ring the bell or knock. His epiphany is confirmed right away when the front car doors open, first a woman coming out of the driver seat and then Yamada himself from the co-pilot side, holding a grocery bag on each hand.

Yuto doesn’t know what to do. Part of his brain is telling him to frown at Yamada like it’s an instant reaction, the most natural thing to do when the boy comes in sight but then, the logical part, the one that sound suspiciously similar to Hikaru’s and Inoo’s voices, is holding him from doing anything stupid, like, _frowning at Yamada when a person who could potentially be his mother is right next to him_. Although, Yuto doesn’t have to crane up anything in the end because the woman is already walking her way to Yuto and she looks absolutely _delighted._

“Hi there, darling! You must be Ryosuke’s friend!” she says with a cheerful tone, but at the same time soft and gentle. Yuto opens his mouth to answer but his head kind of glitched at the mention of the word _friend._

Luckily, Yamada talks before Yuto can mutter a coherent thing.

“Mom, could you stop being so loud? You are probably scaring him.” Yamada scowls at her. This is weird. Super-duper weird. This is the first time Yamada looks angry at someone who isn’t Yuto, specially when Yuto is right in front of him and—is Yuto dreaming? This feels like a dream. No other explanation.

“Huh,” Yuto clears his throat. “Hello, nice to meet you,” he bows a little at the woman when they arrive next to him and prays for his face to look anything but awkward. Maybe he has already failed, anyways.

Ms. Yamada beams at him. “Pleasure is all mine, dear. Oh my,” she says, her expression suddenly changing to a worried one when her eyes land on Yuto’s upper lip. “God, you kids really went all out with your little fight, didn't you?” she says in a disapproving way but it actually doesn’t sound serious at all. Yuto blushes but Yamada rolls his eyes. It’s kind of funny.

“He punched me to, you know,” Yamada dead-pans. Yuto feels the need to shut him up.

“Well you weren’t exactly rainbows and flowers with him either, were you?” She raises an eyebrow at his son, who’s cheeks turn a little pink. Never mind, this is the best day of Yuto’s life.

“Whatever.” Yamada mutters when he leaves the bags on the floor and takes the house keys out.

The inside of the house is spacious and with a lot of light coming from all the windows. Some of the walls are filled with photographs Yuto can’t see clearly from this angle and the stairs are right in the front.

“Sweetie, do you want some lemonade? Bet you are thirsty; the heat has been unbearable these days.” she says as they pass to the kitchen. Yuto follows behind.

“Yes, thank you.” Yuto says and hates how shy comes out. But is Yamada the one who pulls out two glasses from the wall cabin and pours lemonade in one and strawberry juice in the other.

“We are gonna study in my room, mom,” he announces as he grabs both glasses and with a glance, indicates Yuto to follow him.

But before they can leave the kitchen, Ms. Yamada says, “Oh so you are from the same class? For a reason your face looks awfully familiar, dear. Did you ever come here before?”

It’s then when it occurs to Yuto that Ms. Yamada does know Yuto, from years and years ago, when they both were in kindergarten. He has vague memories of her making Yamada apologize to him for splashing water at him and _yes_ , Yuto decides he really likes Yamada’s mother.

But this is not the time to go through all of those wonderful memories, seems to say Yamada’s face.

“He hasn’t,” he states immediately.

“We are in the same year, but different classes,” Yuto clarifies and for a brief moment, he wonders if a hint of a grateful look passes through Yamada, probably for going along with him and not mentioning anything.

“Oh, so you may know Chinen!” Yuto nods. “He and Yamada are basically attached to the hip since they were kids. It’s nice to see a new face around.”

“ _Mom_ ,”

“Aye, aye. Go whatever you need to do. Good thing your sisters are not home, so you have the second floor all to yourselves.” she says. Yuto didn’t even know Yamada had sisters.

“Sure. C’mon, let’s go,” he says to Yuto and they both go upstairs.

Upstairs there’s a long hallway that leads to three rooms. They are all closed but Yamada opens the one that’s in the end, in the middle of the door that has a _“DO NOT ENTER IF YOU AREN’T WEARING GUCCI,”_ sign with pink glitter writing and the other that has a whole mix of My Little Pony stickers on it.

Yuto wasn’t sure of what he was expecting to see in Yamada’s room because, well—he never ever expected to be in this situation. The first thing that comes to his mind when picturing the sleep place of his enemy kind of leads his mind to dungeons and dark places where he cooks up his evil plans but it turns out Yamada’s room is pretty normal. Shocking.

It’s slightly larger than Yuto’s and the first thing he can gather from a quick look is that he’s never ever gonna take Yamada to his room because this place is perfectly clean and tidy in a way that looks almost stylish. The walls have a soft cream tone that goes well with the dark wood floor, an oval carpet in a lavender color in that looks so fluffy Yuto feels the need to lay on it. The bed is next to the main window, sunlight giving the whole room a much brighter glow. There’s a desk in the opposite corner and the wall in front of it is filled with a messily styled collage of different photos, a big calendar with annotations and post it’s all over it; in the end, a wall bookcase, some trophies at top of it. It’s a pretty room, Yuto will give him that.

However, his eyes keep stuck in one particular thing that kind of stands out in the whole room, and Yuto knows the main idea is not to get in each other’s nerves during this summer but the snort that comes out from him is something he cannot help, because that is one big ass poster of—

“—Taylor Swift?” Yuto laughs. “Really?”

“Got a problem with it, Nakajima?” Yamada raises an eyebrow, like he’s daring Yuto to say something.

“Chill, man. I just wasn’t expecting it,” Yuto shrugs. “Your mother is nice.” It’s the true after all.

“She has that effect to whoever doesn’t live under the same roof as her, trust me.”

“I think she recognized me for a moment? You know, since she was there, in kindergarten, after you threw— “

“God, that was _ages_ ago,” Yamada’s cheeks turn a deep red. It’s too unexpected, Yuto can’t help but smile amused.

Yuto shrugs. “She’s able to recognize a victim when she sees them.”

“No, she’s just terribly good at recognizing faces.”

“Are you implying I have the face of a four-year-old kid?”

“I wouldn’t say is the physical part you have of a toddler.”

“Wish I could say that about height, then.”

“You—wait, stop. No,” he says, shaking his head. “We were supposed to be decent with each other, come on. It’s the number one rule.”

“There are rules?”

“Only if you don’t behave. We are in my room, if you didn’t notice. And before, I just meant my mom is freaking good at remembering a face even if she saw it only one time. She’s like a witch, she eventually will figure it out,” he takes some books from the bookcase and then turns around. “Don’t tell her I called her a witch.”

“Should have told me before I sent her the recording.”

“You are so annoying.”

“Does your mother even know you hate my guts?”

Yamada looks at him with surprised eyes. Yuto stares back. What? What did he say?

It takes three seconds before Yamada says:

“I don’t hate you,” Yamada raises an eyebrow.

He can’t help it. Yuto laughs. “Wow, wish Watanabe were here. She would probably burst into tears or something,”

“I—,” Yamada has an unreadable face, almost conflicted about choosing his words to keep going with the sudden no-hate confession. However, in the end he just says, “Never mind, you are insufferable.”

“Dude, it’s has been, like, five seconds since you set the first rule and you are already breaking it.”

“Okay, from now on,” He seats in the small table situated in the middle of the room, slamming in a passive-aggressive way the math boo on it, jaw clenched. “We get into this. Not a word of it doesn’t have to do with finding an ‘x’ on any kind of equation, okay?”

“Has anyone told you that you are little bossy?” Yuto raises his hands. “Not an offense, just an objective opinion.”

Yamada frowns and looks like he wants to say something else, but in the end, he only opens the book that’s in front of him.

And so, it begins.

First few minutes in and this is awkward. They go on a round of basic equations and inequalities exercises that has Yuto looking at the sheet of paper for a while with such an intensity it won’t surprise him if the thing starts to levitate. After it’s clear the he won’t suddenly see the holy light, he drops the pencil. He tries to find a perspective where this situation is not so humiliating but also fails, along with the ten exercises he’s completely sure are as bad as the ones he answered in his previous tests.

Yamada takes his time to look at each one of them, though. His eyebrows are furrowed and by the way his upper lip twitches, it’s obvious he’s biting them, concentrated. Yuto takes his chance to sneak a glance, to search for the tiniest hint of mockery or laughter on him but no matter how hard he stares, it never comes. Yamada is so focused like there’s actually something interesting on it, analyzes every number like he’s actually paying attention to what Yuto did, instead of qualifying them as a bunch of wrong answers like the teacher usually does.

“You know how to start,” he suddenly says, startling Yuto. “All the exercises have the first step correct, you know how to organize the constants and the variable in order to work with them. The struggle comes when you need to balance the equation and for that, you need to do the additive inverse—are you listening to me?”

“I mean, you are making sounds, that’s for sure.” Yuto nods slowly. “Now, if you could put subtitles underneath, it would be awesome.”

In any other situation, that would have unleashed an entire army out of Yamada. However, he just says, “It’s—a golden rule when it comes to equations, you need to keep both sides of it balanced. Here, for example,” he points to the first exercise on the sheet. “You added weight to this one side, right?”

Yuto nods again. But now he’s actually listening.

“Then,” he writes arrows to explain the exchange. “You also need to add it on the other side.”

Just like that? Yuto wants to say. “And, huh, what about that five dividing the ‘x’?”

“The main goal is to leave it alone, so—how do you get rid of a division?”

“Multiplication?”

“Is it an answer or a question, Nakajima.”

“Multiplication.”

“Come on, louder.”

“Fuck off—”

“LOUDER, NAKAJIMA.”

“MULTIPLICATION!”

“Woah, there!” Ms. Yamada exclaims as soon as she opens the door, a plate full of cookies on her hands. Both of them snap their necks towards her. “I swear to God, Ryosuke if you are fighting again—”

“I was not, we were studying!” Yamada argues as his mother puts the plate on the table. “Tell her, Yuto!”

_Yuto._

This is the first time Yuto hears his name from Yamada. That’s how it sounds.

Okay, so what?

Is not a big deal, right?

Yuto breathes again.

“He said he’d punch me to make my lip look symmetrical,” he says and in the same beat he adds, “He also called you a witch.”

An instant hit from Yamada makes him smile. “I fucking ha—”

“ _Yamada Ryosuke_ ,” her mother hisses.

“—I _really really_ hate you.”

Bu it’s after Ms. Yamada has left and Yamada goes on explaining the easiest way to solve equations of two variables, when it dawns Yuto. Not the mathematics, but something Yamada also said before.

“Hey,” Yamada shakes his pencil in front of him. “Are you listening to me?”

_I don’t hate you._

A smile comes to Yuto’s face from a place he really doesn’t want to dig in too much.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I am.”

☼

Yuto does the equations. He also does the two variable and the quadratic ones. In a single week he thinks he has managed to learn more than he had during the semester and he really doesn’t know how to feel about that.

Because as soon as Ryosuke starts to explain the subject, is crystal clear how good he’s at explaining. He defines some basic vocabulary about mathematical concepts precisely, brick by brick constructing general ideas and a solid wall of bits of knowledge that, until now were floating around in the deepest corners of Yuto’s mind, but they slowly start to take a decent form. Yamada lets Yuto name every function after a Pokemon and Yamada’s dad gives them a weird look when Yuto complains about a Flareon having too many cubic inputs; Yamada also teaches him different methods to solve systems of equations until one sticks with Yuto and they manage to apply it to every single exercise they find; he comes up with a short song to memorize every trigonometry function, with a rhythm Yuto can swear sounds too close to one of those pop songs that are constantly played nowadays on the radio and now, the only thing Yuto can be sure of is that he’s gonna have it on repeat in his head during the test, which is great because it means he’s also will not forget about the right formula to calculate the tangent ratio.

But even if Yamada didn’t come up with such particular ways of teaching, it would be really hard not to get immerse in the passion he seems to have for every subject they see. His eyes would light up, hands moving along with words that are only meant to be listened and understood, because mathematics is not something to be interpreted, doesn’t have different meanings, is just a set of steps than need to be religiously followed and the only thing that will make sense is the last result, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And Yuto would constantly feel like he’s watching something new, something glow behind his gestures, jumping out of the sparks of his eyes at sudden moments Yamada would subtly try to hide from Yuto, or maybe from anyone listening, he suspects. An excitement he’s trying tame in the inside because probably this is not the first time Yamada had tried to talk about things that makes him excited, even if it’s something as illogical as algebra or theories or very bad math jokes, perhaps this isn’t the first time he has someone who doesn’t care about it at all so heat trying to hide it.

But there are moments when it gets too much. This side of Yamada is something he has never seen before and Yuto feels lost, doesn’t know if he should make a joke in between or say mock about how much he’s talking. That's when the surprise kicks him hard. Because, in comparison of how was everything before summer break, now Yuto doesn’t feel like doing it at all. Because Yamada would feel bad. Because he know it can actually hurt him. Because probably Yuto likes to listen to him. Because, Yuto is used to Yamada having a special side reserved from him, but he’s not used to see shiny eyes on it.

So, it’s overwhelming. At some moments Yuto’s brain will short circuit and his tongue will say stupid things in defiance of assuring this is a real thing now and Yuto hasn’t fell in a sort of multiverse.

For Yamada it passes as Yuto being his annoying self, as always.

☼

“Are you listening to me?” Yamada frowns.

“What? Sorry, I kind of got immersed in your beautiful voice and zoned out for a moment. You were saying?”

☼

“Are you listening to me?”

“Has someone ever mentioned you that you look like DiCaprio? But. Like. Rounder. Bigger cheeks and way smaller.

☼

“Are you listening to me?”

“Of course, I’m listening! Now, I did get lost when you started talking about logarithms.”

“But that’s… literally the first thing I explained.”

“Yep.”

☼

“Are you listening to me?”

“Depends. Can I get a gummy bear for every correct answer?”

“No?”

“Okay. What about three?”

“If I’m not giving you one what makes you think I’d give you _three._ ”

“Well—congratulations. You’ve just got how illogical this factorization sounds to me.”

☼

“Are you listening to me?”

“Hey, don’t yell at me, I’m not deaf.”

“I’m not yelling?”

“See? You are doing it again!”

“Doing what?! I’m not yelling!

“Stop it! How am I supposed to learn like this?!”

☼

“Are you listeni—what are you doing?”

“Um. Writing?”

“Nakajima. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Dude seriously, what the heck, I’m just writing down what you’re saying!”

“Yes, I know, but you’re also writing down every single word I’m sayin—Jesus, no, don’t—stop writing—Don’t write what I am saying now! Also, that's not how you spell _Jesus,_ oh my God.”

☼

Yamada talks. Yuto jokes even about the air he breathes. Yamada gets annoyed. That’s how Yuto knows everything is okay in the world.

☼

Yuto finds himself going to the beach again, camera hanging from his neck

He doesn’t take his bike with him so he walks down to the beach, taking his time to stop whenever he feels like catching a detail with his lenses. The gracious fly of passing butterflies. The warm colors of a leaf bathed in the gold glow of the summertime. Close ups of flower petals tracking the path of the sun rays. Shadows of people growing as they walk away in the horizon. And when the smooth and warm grains of sand cover his bare feet, the sun has already began its way down to meet the ocean. The orange summer sun has all its rays reflected on the water, the light that touches the waves sparkling like melted gold and the open sky is painted with all shades of yellows and reds and pinks, even some faint purple sides meeting with the little blue that remains.

He takes one, two, four, six, fifteen, twenty-six photos of the sunset in different angles, effects and moments, but no matter how many times he clicks the camera, it doesn’t portrait the crushing beauty he feels whenever he raises his eyes to a sun setting in the horizon.

☼

**Yuto >> Hikaru and The Hikarulettes**

**Keito:**

so

my phone screen cracked

again

**Yuto:**

Inoo, how are the statistics?

**Inoo:**

Three broken phone screens, now four from what’s been of the year which is a 70% raise of what was mid-last year and there are high probabilities of a fifth one by the end of summer, Sir.

**Yuto:**

Thank you, Inoo. You are dismissed.

**Hikaru:**

BUT WE PUT A SCREEN PROTECTOR ON IT, FOR GODS SAKE

**Keito:**

i’m literally out of words

but i DO KNOW it happened because two dumbasses started a meme war at 3 am and my phone buzzed so much it fell from my desk

**Hikaru:**

well shit

I wonder who might they be

**Yuto:**

no clue, man

**Yabu:**

enough talking kids, LISTEN NOW

are we still good for the Arioka thing? Tomorrow night?

**Keito:**

look at Inoo reply in 0.000001 seconds

**Inoo:**

Kota: yes, I’m good.

Keito: die.

**Yuto:**

what thing

**Keito:**

come on yuto, we talked about it literally less than twelve hours ago

and this time, you are coming. Even if I have to drag you screaming and kicking

**Yuto:**

was too busy being a slave at the bakery

also, there’s a new section of cheesecakes we opened just today, if u guys want to come around!

**Yabu:**

look at Inoo reply in 0 seconds

**Inoo:**

DID YOUR DAD ORDERED THE HELLO KITTY SHAPED ONES I TALKED HIM ABOUT?

**Yuto:**

...yes

**Inoo:**

BEST DAD EVER

**Keito:**

stop talking about food, i’m hungry :c

also, can we leave together to Arioka’s? I have no idea where he lives

**Yabu:**

lmao what are u talking about, you’ve been there?

**Inoo:**

and you were drunk

so drunk

**Keito:**

was I?

**Inoo:**

dude

you were so drunk you told Yamada he would inherited your whole guitar collection since Yuto couldn’t make it that day. You also broke, like, five cups

**Yabu:**

*Plastic cups

**Yuto:**

KEITO YOU FUCKING TRAITOR

**Keito:**

THAT IS WHY YOU NEED TO GO

**Hikaru:**

Maybe we should pull the Ryosuke Yamada card to convince Yuto?

**Yabu:**

SAVAGE

**Yuto:**

what nonsense are you talking about now?

**Hikaru:**

oh, idk

i thought since you two were besties now, you’d feel like going

**Yuto:**

wtf we are not friends??????

**Yabu:**

are you sure about that?

**Yuto:**

yes???? pls guys

He’s The Enemy

**Inoo:**

denial. Is the first step. God knows i know it.

**Yuto:**

first step of WHAT

**Keito:**

come on, Yuto! Yamada is a great guy! And the fact you both are still alive after almost two weeks of tutoring is itself a miracle lol

**Yuto:**

can we stop talking about yamada???????????

**Yabu:**

how interesting is you are the one saying that

**Inoo:**

since YOU have been talking non-stop about him since the first day

**Yabu:**

“Yamada hates frogs, what a baby.”

**Inoo:**

“Yamada has the same red converses I have? The fuck?”

**Yabu:**

“Yamada has a whole set of cacti and each one of them are named after a Taylor Swift album, he's sooo lame.”

**Yuto:**

you are all dead to me

**Hikaru:**

anyGAYS

would you all shut up?

I’m trying to finish my spanish homework here

**Yabu:**

you don’t need to study spanish, please

**Keito:**

isn’t that the one class you have, like, 9678594 million A+?

**Inoo:**

no one can have that many grades, Keito

**Yuto:**

no sea dramática, señorita

**Keito:**

*camila cabello’s voice* i love it when you call me señoritaaaa

**Yuto:**

i wish i could pretend i didn’t need yaaaa

**Yabu:**

but every touch is ooh la la laaaaaaaa

**Yuto:**

it’s true la la lAAAAAAAAAAAA

**Hikaru:**

DUCK OFF

**Inoo:**

WOAH

**Keito:**

OMG HAHAHA

**Hikaru:**

aaaaargh

FUCK OFF***

**Yuto:**

okay, I’m going

only if i got to add swear words to hikaru’s phone dictionary

**Hikaru:**

Lay a ducking finger on my phone and I’ll ducking kill you.

☼

Okay, look.

In his defense, Yamada was the one who started it.

Everything was going well. Peachy, Music was blasting against the walls. People were dancing outside or already drunk or making out in the hallways. Keito and Chinen were sitting in the couch, talking about Arashi’s latest single, Yuto and Yamada listening next to their respective best friends without exchanging a word between each other. It was all good, probably the most cordial situation they’ve ever been in a social context, and when Yamada casually offered him a drink, Yuto had to check twice if he was actually talking to him, but at the end nodded politely and even muttered a thank you that kind of got stuck in his tight frozen lips.

But _then_ Yamada returned from the kitchen with a freaking _Strawberita_ in hand and Yuto’s eyes went so big, like he was witnessing the most atrocious thing in the world, and Yamada noticed and asked him what was Yuto’s deal—and Yuto couldn’t help to make the most disgusting expression because who the _hell_ drinks Strawberita at a party, only for Yamada to say, of course, people with good taste in drinks, and Yuto said something about Yamada wanting to murder him and Yamada told Yuto to shut the fuck up and take the damn drink, but Yuto refused unless Yamada drank a whole bottle of beer in one go.

Again. Yamada was the one who tried to poison him with bad strawberry margarita. He started it. He definitely started it.

“You got this, Yuto,” Hikaru massages his shoulders as Yabu does the same with Keito’s, like they are boxing trainers preparing them for a fight.

Or a beer pong match. Fuck semantics, really.

At the opposite side of the table, Chinen tosses the ping pong ball and it lands smoothly inside of the cups at the other side, some pink-ish drops of Strawberita splashing out on the table.

“You are cheating, what the fuck,” Yuto yells loud enough for Yamada and Chinen to hear over the music. “That one was too close!”

“It’s all about strategies, Nakajima.” Yamada sticks his tongue out.

“Wow, you really are five, aren’t you.”

“Both of you, shut the fuck up.” Chinen cuts in. “Come on, bottoms up!” he says as Keito knocks up the content in the cup, the sweetness of the drink making him scrunch his nose a bit.

They are in the backyard, right next to the pool. Here, the music is loud but a bit muffled and some people who were outside gathered around them, all with a red cup on their hand as they cheered for each team. Or well, in their case, it’s only Hikaru and Yabu because Inoo and Daiki got lost a long time ago and who knows what are they doing. Yuto doesn’t want to be a bad friend and say he doesn’t care because he does, since Inoo has been pinning over the vice-captain of the soccer team for almost two years now, but it’s difficult to widen his concentration to anything that is not related to wiping off Yamada’s victory smile off his face.

“Teach them how’s done, bro,” Keito passes him the ball and Yuto catches it mid-air. The cup that’s right in front of Yamada has been his main target throughout the entire game so he leans just the right amount, narrows his eyes in absolute concentration and tosses the ball, his eyes following the beautiful arc it forms just before it lands exactly where he wanted to, right in the middle of the cup with a soft splash of beer drops landing on the floor.

“Looks like you gotta drink, Yamada” Yuto points out to the top filled cup he just aimed to, dark eyes locked up with Yamada’s intense stare.

Yamada shrugs. “Whatever,” he says and it doesn’t sound like it’s whatever at all, which has Yuto making a happy dance inside his head. Yamada grabs the drink and gulps the beer down his throat like it’s water, the hint of his bicep flexing for a moment, making the pale skin of his arm look firm and tense for a second.

Yuto looks away. The heat of the summer night is really fucking up with his head.

“My turn,” Yamada takes the ball and throws it. It also lands perfectly in one of the cups at Yuto’s left. Fuck.

It’s not like Yuto is one of those people who tends to play beer pong at parties. Actually, Yuto is not even a party person, and even though last year he missed all Arioka’s parties for being locked up in his room sinking in the darkness of his bed for an entire different reason, it’s inevitable to remember the real reason why he wanted to avoid this one in particular, the buzzing feeling under his skin whenever it comes to Yamada, and always Yamada, gets too addictive and too close to the borderline of blinding every logic sense and mixing up with something else, something deeper and messier, something that makes the space between them boil, not in a strong fire like when they are in high school, but slower, burning just the right way, pleasantly orange warm, and suddenly Yuto will find himself craving for more.

But then, when he’s about to convince himself it’s only his mind making tricks on him, when he’s almost sure he’s the only one burning inside, he will look up and Yamada, and he—this whole party-Yamada, golden locks messy, cheeks flushed by the heat and the alcohol, skin glowing under a mix of shitty neon lights and silver moonlight haze but still managing to look like a fucking ethereal god, smirk already playing on his red lips and stars sparkling at the edge of his dark eyes—will be gazing right back at him, like he was waiting for Yuto to do it, only to answer whatever unspoken questions that may be dancing on Yuto’s head, because no, it’s not his imagination. It’s not the alcohol making tricks to his head. Because he feels it too.

The reason why he tries not to find himself in this situations is to forget the hidden and darker truth about them, that has been getting louder and louder in Yuto’s ears since the day he stepped a foot into Yamada’s house.

That Ryosuke Yamada is a hell of a magnetic force and Yuto is not exempt of being driven by him.

“This is getting bored,” Yuto says after the last remain of the sweet liquid touches his tongue. He doesn’t need to glance to see how Yamada quirks an eyebrow to him.

But is Chinen who laughs. “Dude, last time I checked we are kicking your asses, this is anything but boring.”

“You fucking wish,” Yuto bites back. Honestly, he lost count a while ago because his mind and even his pulse has been getting dangerously unsteady with each toss. And because he’s getting his way up to be drunk, he says. “I’m just telling we could make things a bit more interesting,”

“Stop being fucking vague and speak,” Yamada grunts in annoyance.

At his side, his friend are throwing him a _what the fuck are you doing now_ glance but Yuto ignores it.

“How about this,” he says. “Final shot. Whoever misses it has to jump in the pool, clothes on.”

“Deal.” Chinen replies in a beat, then turns to Yamada and pats his shoulder. “You can do this, Ryosuke.”

“ _What?!_ ” Yamada cries out, eyes going ridiculously wide and gaping at his best friend. “Why _me_?!”

“Cause if I recall correctly, you were the one who told me, and I quote ‘ _I’ll crush Nakajima even if it’s the last thing I do_ ’. Also, I’m too cute to get wet.”

Next to Yuto, Keito takes a few steps back. “Um.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just,” he looks at the ground. “Huh.”

“You are not thinking of backing out, right?”

“Of course not! But I think I need to—oh my, would you look at the time,” he looks at his empty wrist. “I gotta water my… my cat.”

Yuto scowls. “You don’t have a cat. Or live here.”

“My imaginary cat. The one that lives inside my imaginary house, which, by the way, looks exactly like this one, so yeap. Sorry, bro.”

(“Just a warning,” Hikaru mumbles when Keito walks to him and Yabu. “If your imaginary cat ever gets near to my imaginary self, I’ll imaginary end you.”)

Although he didn’t intend to make the final point a one-on-one situation, now it’s seems like the most obvious thing that this would have ended up between just the two of them.

“Last chance to back out,” Yuto tilts his head. “Won’t judge, I swear.”

Maybe Yamada was against the punishment, but he looks determined now, because it’s only Yuto and him.

Nakajima and Yamada.

Yamada smiles gentle but his eyes reveal that familiar provocation that usually makes all the alarm bells go off in Yuto’s head.

He chuckles and he throws the ball to Yuto, who catches it perfectly. “Hope you know how to swim, Nakajima.”

Yuto might not be drunk (yet), but the rush of adrenaline pounding inside his chest is making him feel light-headed and giddy, his whole face screaming _challenge fucking accepted._

With a quick movement, Yuto sends the ball inside a full cup in front of Yamada. Behind him, Keito, Yabu and Hikaru laugh loudly and even some people cheer for him.

“See how your strategies manage to score you the last point,” Yuto prompts as he takes his blue plaid shirt off, tossing it to one of the beach chairs around and leaving him only in his black t-shirt.

Wordlessly, Yamada chugs the beer in one go and for a reason Yuto can’t help to think that if Yamada were a color now, it would be fierce red. Everyone gets silent. Music is still going strong but Yuto swears he can hear the fall and rise of his chest.

There are still lots cups filled with Strawberita but Yuto knows which one Yamada is targeting by the way his eyes seems to focus on it, like a lion aiming for his pray. It’s the most filled one and Yuto would put his hands over fire to say Yamada was the one who did it, probably already thinking on making it his final shot and victorious point. Yuto wouldn’t be surprised if it is, though. If the wind suddenly stops blowing, if the ball flies precisely inside the full cup, because the universe kind of have the biggest crush on people like Yamada and likes to play on hard-mode with people like Yuto.

It’s because of that his jaw fucking drops to the ground Yamada throws the ball and instead of falling inside, it hits the rim of the cup and knocks another one, less filled. A mumble that sounds too close to _shit_ slips out of Yamada’s lips, Yuto can’t really know because it got beneath the loud roar of the crowd around them and his own victory high deafening his ears. Holy shit.

Holy shit, he _won._

“Cheers, man,” Yuto’s voice cackles at the end, raising the cup filled with strawberry margarita. “Maybe you’d like some before jumping in?”

“Fuck off,” Yamada hisses. He’s pissed and Yuto’s entire existence is ascending.

“Hey. For the record, this wouldn’t have happened if you had known what’s the good stuff.”

“ _This_ is the good stuff, you goddamn asshole.”

“And now I’m doubting you ever had tequila in your life.”

Yamada sighs, but he does take the cup and gives it a long sip. “You are so full of shit,” he says.

Yuto chuckles. “Maybe,” Yamada gives him back the cup. “Now, jump! Jump! Jump! Jump! —”

The chant in the backyard is so loud it almost muffles the music and some people who were inside the house is now coming out to see what the commotion is about. Yamada looks like he just bit on a lemon but he’s also a man of word, so in a single movement his black leather jacket is off, and so are his red converses. He pulls out his phone and hands it to Chinen, who is grinning impossibly wide.

For an unknown reason Yuto believed he would dip himself in the water slowly, entering by the pool stairs, but with big eyes he observes how Yamada takes some big steps back and runs, jumping in the pool, landing with a beautiful splash, making everyone cheer and clap as he re-emerges from the dark waters. He pushes the wet blonde hair out of his face, his white shirt clinging to his skin and accentuating his defined chest and arms, and he has this… unreadable face that Yuto was not expecting to see from someone who just had to jump into a pool with his clothes on, a strange confidence and an almost playful glow in his eyes. There are also big droplets of water skating down his throat, slowly tracing paths across his exposed collarbones, going down and down—

It’s the heat. It’s the fucking summer heat, Yuto desperately thinks as he obligates himself to break his gaze away, pretending his breathing didn’t stop for a moment. The night is so hot and the alcohol in his body is making him see things. Feel things. Stupid things.

Yamada swims to the border near him and Yuto doesn’t trust the smile that’s dancing on his lips, like Yuto is his personal internal joke.

He raises a hand to him.

“A little help?” he asks. Yuto rolls his eyes.

“Only because I’m a kind soul,” Yuto offers him a hand.

And as soon as Yamada’s hand takes his forearm, Yuto knows he made a horribly stupid mistake. Really, it’s so cliché it makes him angry he didn’t see it coming, because all the signs were there but Yuto’s brain was still glitching from the whole Yamada-wet picture.

It happens as quick as a second. When Yamada yanks him, he does it hard and it makes Yuto lose his balance, falling into the pool with a yelp and not very gracefully to be honest, but in the next second, he’s out and gasping for air.

The first thought that crosses his mind is that it’s fucking cold. The summer weather did nothing to warm the waters and now Yuto can’t stop shivering.

The second thought is thank God he left his phone charging inside Daiki’s room because he would be now not only wet from head to toe but also phone-less.

The third thought comes in rages:

He’s gonna fucking kill Ryosuke Yamada.

“I always wanted to see how a wet giraffe would look like,” Yamada laughs next to him. “Oh my god, your face was priceless.”

“ _You fucking little shit_ ,” Yuto growled and Yamada’s amused face falls and he can see there’s a hint of insecurity instead, like he’s afraid that maybe he was the one who crossed a line this time.

But Yuto doesn’t give him time to do anything because he immediately launches himself to get him. Yamada instantly tries to run but doesn’t go further before Yuto grabs his t-shirt and pulls hard, wraps his arms around his waist, Yamada breathy squeal of shock when Yuto’s strong arms lift him up like he weighs nothing.

“No! No, Yuto, no, no, please, no! _Yuto_ —!”

“ _Revenge!_ ”

Yuto throws him in the air and Yamada’s body disappears under the water with a loud splash. He reappears gasping for air, frantically wiping the water out his face and throwing a murderous look at

“Nakajima you are dead” Yamada threatens, wadding his way to him but Yuto stays right on his spot, not moving an inch with his evil smile.

“You can say it was payback for throwing me to the water,” Yuto says and receives a splash of water to his face in response.

“I hate you so much,” Yamada says easily and this is the second time, and Yuto knows their dynamic is narrowed to this but Yuto can’t help it. He really can’t.

The words are out of his mouth before he can register them.

“You really don’t, though.”

They are facing each other now, only a few steps away, the lights underneath the surface lit up as the moment Yamada made contact with the water so it looks almost transparent now, melted light blue ice little waves crushing on their bodies and Yamada’s skin looks even paler than before, but the drops of water make it shine in a way that shouldn’t be distract Yuto this much. Yuto expects Yamada to argue back. For an insult, a scoff, a roll his eyes or—something. Whatever that makes this whole situation more down to earth and not like Yuto is still stuck in a permanent dream where he gets to have a silly smile on his face every time they are together. 

But instead, Yamada look taken aback for a second at Yuto’s words and then—

Then he throws his head back and lets out a laugh.

It’s immediate. Any other comment or joke in Yuto’s head resolved to crumbles, vanished completely from the tip of his tongue. Yamada is right in front of him, was right in front of him when he told Yuto _“Look, you and I know this is not gonna work out,”_ and he was talking to Yuto in such a different way than what is happening here. Is it really happening? Maybe it’s a stupid question. Yuto has seen Yamada laugh and smile countless times but he’s pretty sure he has never seen it this close, never like this, so carefree and real and honest and with Yuto right in front of him and now—now Yuto realizes he had stopped breathing because his chest was kind of hurting and now is starting to think there was a reason the universe never allowed it, because Yuto is unable to look away.

This is the first time he feels it. His heart has been beating crazy for a while know but it’s one particular beat that’s stronger than the others. A pounding that comes with a strange tug, echoing against his chest but still making all his skin tingles, bells ringing in his ears. It takes him off guard and even though there’s a voice in the back of his head telling him he should pay close attention to it, he just shakes it off. Drops it. Surely, it’s the alcohol. Or the hot weather. Or the water around them. He forgets about it. Even though Ryosuke is still there, trying to calm down and grinning widely. Even though this moment feels like an answer to all the questions he’s had during the past weeks.

☼

“I like a boy,” Daiki’s voice comes from Yuto’s right. “He’s so pretty and his hands should be in one of those European Renaissance museums and—and he’s the smartest motherfucker I know, which is a lot to say ‘cause I thought Chinen was something like, the reincarnation of Einstein but, you know, pocket-sized, baby face with abs—”

“Thanks for giving me that mental image,” Ryosuke says, definitely not grateful.

But Daiki doesn’t catch the sarcasm. “Do you think he likes me?”

“I think you are an idiot.”

“But do you think he likes _this_ idiot? That’s the real question here.”

It takes a moment before Yamada replies. “I don’t think you need to worry.”

It’s past 3 AM when the party stats to be less loud, lo-fi hip hop tracks instead of the boosting EDM songs playing, people no longer dancing, just smoking, talking in steady voices o trashed slurs, a couple of them passed out on the couch.

Yuto is not tipsy anymore but there’s a faint lightness in his body that can only be attributed to how much beer and margarita he had before. He’s still outside, currently lying on one of the pool lounge chairs, clothes drying with the heat of the night. Daiki and Yamada also lying next to him, both on their own chairs, the three of them looking at the starry night sky.

Daiki suddenly says. “Am I the only one who thinks stargazing activates your inner Philosophical Bullshit? I’m kind of in the middle of an existential crisis here.”

“Just how many glasses of wine did you have?” Yamada retorts.

“Shut up, okay? I’m drunk, gay, and trying to find the big dipper, give me a break.”

“It’s there,” Yuto points to somewhere in the night sky. “See? There’s the bowl-shape and the bent handle.”

Daiki straightens up to see. “Oh my god, you are right! I knew I liked you better for a reason, Yuto. You are ten times nicer than this grump over there,” Yamada scoffs but doesn’t say a word. Daiki lies on the chair again. “It’s crazy how big the universe is and how small we are. We could be locking eyes with an alien and we wouldn’t know a thing about it.”

“Nah,” Yuto dismisses. “What you are actually looking is to the past. The light you are able to see from here takes a good hundreds of years to reach us.”

“So if I ever see the light of a spaceship, it might not be even there anymore by the time I get to see it?”

“Huh. I think so?”

Yamada chimes in. “And you’d be also an alien for them, you know? Human beings could be a real interrogation mark for them, there’s no real proof they are this super advanced species that Hollywood movies want to portray.”

Yuto nods, stars twinkling above him. “What is one hundred percent true is that they do exist. There’s no way we are all alone in this… fucking star pudding called universe.”

“Yeah,” Daiki says. “But I also think we do know them and maybe they are the ones infiltrated among us,” he states. “Like, ‘Men In Black’ or ‘X-Men’ kind of infiltrated.”

“The X-Men are born from a biological mutation in their chromosomes, get your movie references right, Jesus.”

“But there’s a lot to see in our own planet yet," Yuto says. "Thousands of species still not discovered, like—those sea creatures you can sometimes watch on Animal Planet? I’m not saying they are like, from another planet or anything, but. They are so fucking cool. M’not sure about the exact number but there’s a huge percent of the underwater world humans haven’t been able to explore yet,” Yuto comments.

“Around 85 and 95 percent, Nakajima.”

“Thanks, Yamada.”

“We have a friend… you might know him. Yuya. Takaki Yuya," Daiki smiles at Yuto. "He was in our soccer team last year and got a scholarship at the beginning of the semester to Australia ‘cause he’s into the whole Marine Biology and shit. And he’s always sending us pictures of this freaking cool fish of different colors and big ass whales and neon glowing medusas he finds whenever he goes diving. That’s fucking crazy.”

“I have the baby squids picture saved he sent us last week on my phone. I look at them whenever I lose faith in humanity.”

“What if this is all about parallel universes instead of galaxies,” Daiki says like he just got the best idea. “Think about it. We may be trapped in this reality, but aliens or other forms of life belong to other worlds, and they live just like us, like—oh, my god, maybe they are even humans! Like, other versions of ourselves!”

Yuto sees from his peripheral vision how Ryosuke turns to face his friend. “Are you sure you aren’t high or something?”

“Parallel dimensions is one of the coolest theories ever invented. You can speak something into existence and _boom,_ you just created an alternative universe where that happens," Yuto nods.

Ryosuke sounds hesitant. “I’m—not sure if that’s how they work.”

But Daiki ignores him and listens to Yuto. Ha. “I want my crush to love me back,” he says to no one. “There, I said it.”

Yuto wants to tell him he doesn’t really need to say it because his crush is already whipped for him. The way Inoo and Daiki have been dancing around each other is almost physically hurting everyone because the only ones who don’t know they like each other are them, the signs out there pointed with shining lights and glitter letters.

Arioka is a touchy person. Very touchy person. He would come into your personal space and Yuto thinks there has to be some sort of magic around him because he’s probably the only person who can’t make you uncomfortable even if he likes to jump on you and hug you or put his arm around and treat you like you are best friends for life or some shit like that. However, when he’s around Inoo, it’s a completely different story. He’s more careful, he would look at him in the eyes before getting near as if asking if he’s okay with it, even if he’d always find a yes in Inoo’s fond smile, and even Daiki touches are softer, a light touch of arm, an elbow squeeze and if by chance they hug, it lasts a few seconds more than any other, and Daiki always seems like melting in his arms.

“You know it’s not like making a wish, right? You are not in that parallel reality, dumbass.”

“Maybe. But what if _this_ is the reality, Ryosuke? Have you ever thought about _that_?” Daiki points out.

“I wish I could pass math without having to see Yamada’s face twice a week.”

“I wish Nakajima steps on a Lego every day.”

“I wish Yamada were taller to at least reach the books on his bookcases.”

“I wish Nakajima were a-—"

“Well, _I wish_ you two got along for once in your lives, God,” Daiki scoffs. “Wouldn’t it be amazing? A world where you two held hands and talked about your great friendship every single day of your lives?”

They go quiet after that. Yuto looks at the sky and finds four constellations that remind him of the patterns he always traces in the ceiling of his room. The now soft hum of the music is enough to make him doze off, forgetting about the fact that he’s outside because the breeze is so warm and relaxing it makes the job of falling asleep easier with every passing second.

That’s why he can’t tell if he hears correctly or his mind has already started to make up things in the drift of falling asleep, but before closing his eyes, he swears he hears Ryosuke repeat Daiki’s words:

_“Wouldn’t it be amazing?”_

☼

This week has been a pain to dealt with.

In other more accurate words, Yuto would say it has been shit.

First, summer homework. Every year, every single year Yuto thinks more or less the amount of homework his teachers will give him for vacations, only to be reminded that he’s damn stupid, because this year he definitely has a fucking ton of book reports, essays, math problems, science papers and study reviews to do for the upcoming exams. And there’s a point in summer where you just can’t keep avoiding the pile of papers and books accumulated on your desk without glancing to it every five minutes and not feel the stress creeping up on your shoulders. So, instead of hanging out with his friends or going down the beach or taking photos around, he obligates himself to sit down every chance he has to finally get some shit done.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have many chances and that’s mainly because of the second reason his week has been the worst.

Every morning him and Raiya take turns to drop by their dad’s bakery to give him a hand with whatever physical work he might need help with, or even doing the delivery themselves to not leave the work to someone who might not do it right (at least that’s what they have been doing since the last delivery guy his dad hired used to ate half of the peach tarts whenever someone ordered them).

But last week, his dad had to fire one of his main chefs because he never respected the basic hygiene protocol established and it was always a pain to clean the mess he used to leave after the bakery closed. Of course, he was also an asshole, since he managed to put salt instead of sugar in every cinnamon roll they had ordered for the upcoming week, without anyone knowing. It obviously led to angry customers demanding refunds or new orders so Yuto, Raiya a Mr. Nakajima spent two nights locked in the bakery kitchen trying to bake as many cinnamon rolls as possible to keep up with the demand. Needless, to say, Yuto didn’t feel his hands for another two days, writing was an impossible task and now, every time he catches the scent of cinnamon he wants to throw up.

And on top of it. The reason why he hasn’t been able to rest his mind even if he has a small time to rest:

He can’t stop think about Arioka’s party.

Yuto is being dumb, he knows that. It’s not like this is a sign of an upcoming apocalypses or some dramatic stuff like that. Besides, Yamada probably doesn’t remember half of the party. In the tutoring sessions, they haven’t talked about anything that happened there, not even their beer pong competition, which Yuto struggles to admit but kind of hoped he would mention it, even if it was just to mock about Yuto being dragged to the pool.

However, he doesn’t say a word. It’s like it never happened. And it’s kind of driving Yuto crazy.

Because there was a shift that night, Yuto can’t be that insane to be making everything up in his head. They are not exactly friends but whenever they banter and tease and bicker, it doesn’t feel like it’s about their rivalry anymore. It doesn’t, at least not when the line blurs and Yuto doesn’t feel like going home because he would rather be staying with Yamada just a few minutes more. Or hours.

_Wouldn’t it be amazing?_

Sometimes, when the night falls and he can’t seem to catch some sleep, he would close his eyes and would see remains of shining droplets on a pale skin, red converses, a laugh ringing inside his ears like bells and a smile so big it never fails to bring one to his own lips.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even have to close his eyes and he would catch himself thinking about all this whenever his mind is not wondering about family, friends or school.

Like now, for example. A Friday afternoon when he’s riding his way down to Yamada’s house.

And it’s because of that—because he has had a shitty week with lots of homework, problems at the bakery and daydreaming at random moments—why the universe decides to tell Yuto _bitch you’ve seen nothing yet_ and while he’s biking, he runs into a pole.

Scratch that. He doesn’t run into the pole. He fucking _crushes_ against it.

“Oh, fuck!” he immediately falls off the bike with a hard thump on the ground. He’s pretty sure he’s left knee and elbow are injured because they basically received the whole impact but nothing compares to the feeling like his skull has split open when he banged his head against the pole before falling. Fucking hell, it hurts.

He tries to get up and immediately regrets it because—yeap. His knee is throbbing in pain and maybe Yuto is bleeding to death underneath his jeans but he doesn’t have the bravery to roll them and check it. At least he’s just outside Yamada’s neighborhood and he only needs to walk two streets to arrive, because Yuto is not getting on the bike again when there are little stars floating whenever he moves his head an inch to the side.

Looking at the bright side, all thoughts about Yamada get literally knocked out his head. Every step under the sun making the dizziness and pain in his head too strong to even bother.

“Why are you walking like an old man without his cane?”

The voice doesn’t come from the door of the house, but from above his head, actually. And before Yuto can start to freak out about losing all his hearing orientation because of the fall, he looks up to see Yamada watching him from the balcony of his room, a perfect eyebrow arched at him. He is leaning against the wooden handrail, supporting his head with his arm.

“It’s because I have the weight of the world on my shoulders,” Yuto shrugs, as he walks to lean his bike against the entrance.

“Have you ever considered joining the drama club? You are so dramatic”

“My default setting,” he chuckles, trying to hide a wince as he goes up to the door. “Aren’t you gonna let me in?” Yuto asks.

“S’open” he answers. There’s this tingly feeling on the back of his head that tells him Yamada is watching him carefully from up there.

Yuto turns the door knob and confirms it’s in did open. The wooden stairs come in sight and a wave of flames pass through the wounds on his knee and he’s starting to evaluate the possibilities of Yamada hearing him if he tries to go upstairs jumping the steps on one foot. But then, the pounding ache in his head would probably make him trip and he’d fall and die in Yamada’s house and that surely couldn’t be good for the Watanabe’s Enemies to Friends agenda.

He staggers his way up to the second floor, gripping the handrail like his life depends on it, because _fuck_ , his left leg hurts like a bitch and he’s in the fifth step when the echo of Yamada’s steps become closer.

“What’s taking you ages to come upsta—are you _okay_?” Yamada’s voice shifts lower and Yuto can’t look at the genuine worry of his eyes.

“I’m fine, Yamada.”

“Right. I saw you limping two streets before you arrived.”

“Okay,” he sighs and the final steps makes his knee cry. “I fell off my bike. Nothing serious, really.”

Yamada hums as they go inside his room. The windows of the balcony are widely open and the summer breeze comes in gentle blows, delicately caressing the curtains. “Where are you injured?”

“Who says I’m injured?”

“Can you stop being this—this difficult for a goddamn minute?” there’s an edgy tone in his voice. “Seriously, you’d think at this point we—is that _blood_?”

Yuto checks where Yamada’s big shocked eyes are looking at, the left side of his yellow t-shirt tainted with little and not so little drops of blood from the wound of his elbow. Shit. This one doesn’t hurt half of what his knee does and he’s suddenly afraid to take a look at it.

“Um,” Yuto says. “I mean, it’s not ketchup.”

“That’s it,” Yamada resolves and—ah, there’s that face. The _‘I’m beyond done with your bullshit, Nakajima’_ face. Yuto had started to miss it. “Sit.”

Yamada points to his bed. Yuto’s gaze goes from the bed to Yamada. From Yamada to the bed.

He sits.

“Is your leg also hurt?”

Yuto blinks a couple of times. “Don’t know. Didn’t look.”

“Yuto—”

“Stop it, I said I’m fine.”

“No, _you_ stop it,” he kneels in front of Yuto. For a reason, he feels the need to jump ten steps back away from Yamada, but maybe is not the wisest thing to test Yamada’s patience anymore, so he stays as still as a statue. “This is what we are going to do. You’re gonna sit here, stay absolutely still and quiet while I check and clean those wounds up—Uh-uh. Not arguing,” he puts a finger in Yuto’s lips and it’s such an unexpected action, Yuto does shut up immediately. “Please, Yuto. You can fight me on anything else, I promise. But for the love of God—don’t even try to fight me on this one, because it’s not gonna work.”

For the record, Yuto wasn’t trying to argue. He was just… gaping at him in astonishment as Yamada’s words processed in the gears of his brain and got stuck in the middle of them at some point.

Also, Yamada needs to stop saying _Yuto_ like is the easiest thing in the world instead of his usual _Nakajima._

“Okay, huh,” the previous confidence in his voice crumbling now as he drops his look to his injured knee. “Can I…?"

Yuto nods, but only because that’s the only movement he’s able to do now.

With a delicateness and carefulness that throws Yuto off guard, Yamada takes the ends of his jeans and rolls them up slowly, cautious of the way Yuto can’t help but furrow his eyes in pain when he’s rolling the fabric near the damaged area. Showing raw pain in front of Yamada isn’t one of the most comfortable things to do but when he finally pulls the jeans up to his knee, Yuto bites the inside of his left cheek and grasps his fist on the bed hard.

It looks worse than Yuto thought, the kind of wound it matches up the level of pain he’s feeling. The blood is covering half of the skin of his knee and Yuto waits for Yamada to gasp in shock or make a disgusted face at it, but it never comes. Actually, he gets closer and his eyes inspect the injury meticulously, like he’s evaluating how deep it is.

“It’s not bad,” he finally ( _finally_ ) says after a minute. “It’s a big scratch, that’s for sure, but since your jeans were constantly rubbing against it, the blood got kind of messy around.” Then he takes a look at his elbow. “Do you have any other wound?”

Yuto shakes his head. “Fell over my left side, these are the only ones,” and then he adds. “Banged my head hard, though.”

That makes Yamada perk up his head, the worry all over him again, God, how are they still in this situation?

“How the hell did you fall from your bike?”

“Fuck off,” he’s not telling Yamada he ran into a pole while daydreaming about him. Enough humiliation for today. Or forever.

“Does it hurt?”

“Still feels a bit. Mm. Weird,” that’s the truth, although he’s not sure it’s from the fall anymore.

“Okay. Take your hand and tap your thigh. Then, with the back of your hand. As fast as you can,” at the way Yuto frowns, Yamada says. “It’s a movement coordination test, just to check you don’t have a concussion.”

Yuto taps his thigh and then he does the same with the other hand. Yamada hums.

“Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Not anymore.”

“Headache?”

“Coincidentally, whenever I see your face.”

Yamada ignores him. “Feel tired? Can you think clearly?”

“Shit. Now it sounds like I’ve had a concussion my whole life.”

“How many fingers do you see?”

“... Roman five?”

This time, Yamada does break into a small giggle and Yuto tries not to let that get into his head. “Well, at least you are making jokes, which is a good sign. I don’t think you have a concussion, only a bad knock,” he stands up suddenly. Yuto’s eyes follow him as he walks to the door. “I’m gonna grab an ice pack for your head and some stuffs for your wounds. I’ll be right back,” he says and disappears through the door, leaving Yuto alone.

It must be golden hour by now, sunshine rays picking from the window and the air blowing through the open curtains. Yuto looks directly to the sun as the summer breeze caresses his dark locks and breathes in. Aside for the singing birds outside, the house it’s quiet. Steady. Comforting.

Calmness is something Yuto is so used to by now, but there’s also always that edge of being too much, too quiet and his house too big for him to be. Completely the opposite of what been in Yamada’s house is like.

Before realizing, he’s up on his feet, the dull pain on his knee forgotten for a moment as he wanders around Yamada’s room, around the well-organized shelf, filled with CD’s, books and even some DVDs that have Leonardo DiCaprio’s name written in all of them. His cacti collection is placed on the windowsill, from the tallest to the tiniest, little fluorescent star stickers creating a path from the top corner of the window to the ceiling above Yamada’s bed, and Yuto wonders if he placed them there on purpose to have his own personal starry sky when he goes to sleep.

There’s also a photo collage on the opposite wall and suddenly, Yuto is in front of black and white styled photos of a baby Yamada in his mother’s arms, next to his father and sisters, a smile on his face because Yamada was just the cutest little thing (he’s never _ever_ going to say that out loud). There is also another one from their kindergarten class and Yuto can see himself on the back, where teachers usually placed the tall kids. Some of the rest are much recent, one with Chinen and Daiki and another boy Yuto supposes is Takaki, the four of them hugging arm with arm, faces covered in sweat and a soccer ball in front of them; another one with Yamada wearing sunglasses, sun reflecting on them with his little sister seated on his shoulders , both looking at the ocean in front of them; another that looks like it was improvised, Yamada’s confused face looking at the camera as he fried something in a sauce-pan; another with his soccer team lifting him up, probably because he scored the winning goal of the match.

Next to the collage there’s a board hanging also on the wall, but there aren’t photos on it. Instead, it’s filled with little notes one next to the other, each one with a different hand-written message. Yuto glances at the door. Yamada is still not in sight. Before he changes his mind, he decides to take a look at one of them:

_Baby brother! Happy eleventh birthday! I’m sure this year you will finally get taller enough to reach the kitchen’s top shelf lol don’t kill me I love youuuuuuu <3 <3 <3 _

_-Your favorite most beautiful sister_

Yuto can’t help to let a small laugh at the message. He read one at the top.

_HAppY BiRDTHAY RYosUKE,_ and next to it, there’s Yamada’s little note

_\- Misaki Yamada (4 years old)_

Then, another one.

_Since I’ve been officially adopted by your mother, I can join the birthday tradition and write you this: Happy 16th birthday, my dear wallet. Thank you for always treating me and paying for whatever I want (: oh, and also for being my best friend._

_\- Yuri_

Another one:

_I wish you grow into a healthy and happy boy. Happy birthday, my son._

_\- Dad_

And another one:

_To my dearest boy, happy seventeenth birthday. Mom is always going to be there for you and always going to love you, I’m the proudest parent of the person you’ve become today_ —

Yuto stops reading.

He shouldn’t be surprised Yamada’s parents are proud of him. He’s a top student, captain of his team, always with this confident aura around him. Of course, they are proud of him, Yamada has probably achieved more things than the average teenagers of his age. Definitely more things Yuto could ever achieve to make his own mother proud.

Yuto swallows the burn crawling up his throat.

He turns around.

Yamada is leaning on the doorway, arms crossed and a small smirk playing on his face.

“I wasn’t snooping,” the words are out of Yuto’s mouth before he even registers them.

Yamada let’s a laugh out. “Sure you weren’t.”

Yuto sits again on the bed and Yamada kneels in front of him, a red first aid kit next to him. He hands Yuto the ice pack that covered by a washcloth. “Here—don’t put it for too much time directly on your forehead, keep it wrapped,” Yamada instructs.

The coldness makes him wince again, but it calms the pounding headache considerably. Yamada takes a two small white bottles out of the kit. “This is water and an antibiotic cream. I’ll clean the wound on your knee first and then the one on your elbow, is that okay?” Yuto nods.

Yuto doesn't squirm, because he is used to someone taking care of his wounds. Actually, it almost brings some sense of familiarity, because his dad used to do it all the time when he was a kid, since Yuto was always climbing up trees or pretending to be a superhero and imitating those amazing jumps and movements they did on TV. Warmth is the only thing Yuto can feel in this moment, and he would also say a sense of being lost but, the thing is… if he really thinks about it, for a long time ago now, the want of reaching out answers to his questions has been getting quieter, almost a faint whisper.

But again, this is Yamada and sooner or later, Yuto’s brain would glitch if they are not bickering at each other.

“I wasn’t snooping,” Yuto tries again. Why? He doesn’t have a fucking clue, since Yamada himself shrugged it off.

“Yuto, it’s fine,” he smiles, as he pads Yuto’s scratch with a washcloth. “It’s not like i have the secret to destroy the world hidden here in my room.”

It’s okay if you ask, is what Yamada seems to want to say. So Yuto pushes his luck and asks.

“So, um,” Yuto clears his throat in a way that wants to sound casual. He fails pretty good. “About those…?”

“Oh, those?” Yuto glances to the board with the sticky notes. “Those—my family, huh, we have sort of like, a birthday tradition, you could say. We write small hand-written messages to the birthday person expressing our wishes for them,” Yamada closes the water bottle and then adds with a small smile. “Mom has hers and dad’s in a box in her closet. My older sister sticks them in a diary and my little sister, huh, she used to have them all under her pillow but if you walk in her bedroom there’s 70% chances you’ll step on one.”

Is a good thing Yamada is still focused on the wound because Yuto smiles a bit too wide. It’s cute.

“Wasn’t gonna ask that,” Yuto says. “I was gonna ask if you finally managed to reach the kitchen’s top shelf.”

“I have alcohol in here,” Yamada smiles sweetly. “And I won’t doubt about using it, Nakajima.”

Despite of the threat, hey are sort of staring at each other, smiling and it’s like spell Yuto can’t break away from, strong in the way that almost makes you believe in magic. 

However, Yamada is the first to break his gaze away, the tip of his hears flaming red.

Now, he’s the one who clears his throat. “Are—you allergic to a specific medicine?” he asks, as he opens the antibiotic bottle.

“Not that I know of,” Yuto answers and then, a sudden thought strikes him. “How come you are so good at this?”

“It’s just cleaning wound,” Yamada shrugs.

“No, but. Before, you asked me to do that thing with my hand and thigh and said it was a movement reflects something test, I mean, if I didn’t know I’d say you are secretly a doctor.”

Yamada sighs heavily. “That’s because you don’t,” he states. Oh.

Right.

But Yamada keeps talking. “You know I’m in the soccer team, right?”

Yuto scoffs. “Don’t be a show off, Yamada. I’m pretty sure the whole town know that at this point, since you’re like, you know” Jesus, why is it so hard for Yuto to be nice. “... super good and, huh, stuff.”

“But that’s because I _have to_ be,” he points out. “I want to apply for a scholarship next year and study medicine. Pre-med.”

“Oh,” Yuto says. That makes sense. “That’s a big deal.”

“Yep,” Yamada agrees.

Here’s the thing about finding out little pieces of Ryosuke Yamada’s life. It feels like Yuto is connecting dots that were floating around his head without he even knowing. Like he’s coming out with a theory. Making a puzzle. And once Yuto has a little piece of information, he gets his feeling of not wanting to stop.

“A doctor, then,” Yuto remarks. “You always wanted that? Or is this one of those ‘ _my parents want me to study this_ ’ case?”

Maybe that’s too much, Yuto thinks a second too late. Maybe he’s nosing around subjects he shouldn’t ask.

Yamada only chuckles lightly. “None of that, this is my own decision. Knew what I wanted to be since I was a kid.”

“Can’t relate,” Yuto sincerely comments. “About figuring out what you want to do. That’s pretty lucky, I think.”

Yuto is not sure about what Yamada would say about that but he’s surely not expecting a silence. A silence before Yamada answers. A silence that Yuto knows it’s not an affirmative one, but a hesitant one.

“I guess,” he simply says, but his voice is a little hollow and a dark shadow covers his eyes.

Perhaps he’s afraid to talk about the things he likes. Yuto has gathered that much whenever they are going through some math subjects and Yamada’s face would light up and his voice would do this thing that screams how much Yamada likes to talk how to solve absolute value equations or functions or inequalities—and maybe Yuto would say something stupid, just to tease him, making the horrible mistake of pretending to not listen, and the spark in Yamada’s eyes would go away and his shoulders would slump a bit and… wow, Yuto is feeling like he’s the biggest jerk in the whole world.

So now, he waits. No random question. No teasing. No judging.

He listens.

Yamada’s eyes flick to Yuto for a moment. He starts to put some cream over Yuto’s knee.

“When my younger sister, Misaki, was a baby she got pretty sick, like. Very bad, and—there’s basically a part of our lives where we lived in the hospital hallways and waiting rooms. She didn’t like to be alone, surrounded by strangers and white walls so I,” he swallows. “I was in middle school at that time, and I used to finish class and run directly to the hospital to stay with her while mom and dad were working. I remember how upset she would get if I didn't bring her something from the coffee shop of the hospital,” he smiles soft. Sad. The touch of his fingers burns in Yuto’s skin and spreads all way up to his heart. “Sometimes I believe I should have been repulsed by it, you know? I mean, she was suffering, right? And the environment was—but the nurses were, like, super nice with me, and her doctors were always showing me around, explaining the procedures even though I was only a kid, teaching me new terms and machine names and the way they helped Misaki to get better and—”

Yuto laughs.

“Hey,” Yamada frowns. “Don’t mock me, I’m serious.”

“What? No, no!” Yuto hurriedly says. Fuck. He really is an idiot. “Sorry, I was not laughing at you—well. Kind of. It’s just that I can really picture it. Tiny you, surrounded by all those machines.”

Because that’s the true. He does. It comes in like the image of a tiny Ryosuke, big cheeks and smiley eyes, jumping excited like he’s going to a theme park, except he’s in the waiting room waiting for his medical checkup while the others kids cry their eyes out in fear of the doctor.

“Yeah,” Yamada drops his look, focusing on Yuto’s elbow. “Sorry, I’m not making any sense.”

Yuto shakes his head, slowly. “You are.”

Ryosuke is so dumb. Because it does make sense. But Yuto doesn’t know how to explain it either and even he did, Yamada wouldn’t gain anything because he has already set his mind on his goal, his dream. Yuto doesn’t have a dream.

However, he knows how passion can be discovered in one of the most random moments, unexpected places. Saddest memories. And even though he’s pretty good at avoiding them, it comes to his mind more times he’d like to admit, the memory of the beach, his mother crouching behind him, the gentle warm of her arms around his seven year old body, her soft hair tickling the back of his neck as the salty breeze of the ocean caressed them, teaching Yuto how to hold a camera, how to zoom in, what buttons to press, how you are able to capture the most amazing landscape with just a click, chills all over his body, overwhelmed with amazement, and now—now the only thing is left is a piece inside Yuto, drifting alone without an anchor. Now, he wishes he could have captured that memory forever, that feeling. Motherly warmth.

“How is your sister now. Is she okay?” Yuto asks.

Ryosuke beams. “Yes, she is! Thanks for asking. You could never tell she was so fragile before,” Yamada talks about his sister with a fondness that’s almost contagious. “I’m done.”

“Huh?”

“The bandages,” Yamada specifies. “You need to clean these wounds from time to time, however they might get infected, okay?”

“Sure thing, doc,” Yuto says and Ryosuke chuckles lightly as he stands up, just to sit on the bed next to Yuto. "Thank you."

"No problem."

The sun is starting to set outside and the golden glow showers the room as their silhouettes grow taller. The heat that comes from Yamada’s body tingles Yuto’s left side, but it’s not uncomfortable. Not at all.

“What about you?” Yamada suddenly says.

“What about me?”

“What are your options for the future?”

Yuto takes some time to think about his answer. “Well, something that doesn’t involve math of any kind, that’s for sure. I think it’s already clear that I suck at numbers.”

“You don’t, actually. But it’s understandable that you don’t like it,” Yamada says. “But there are tons of other stuffs aside from numbers.”

“When I was in middle school,” Yuto remembers. “I used to apply to every single extra-curricular class that caught my attention or jumped from hobby to hobby ‘cause I got bored of them easily. Name one, I’ll sure have done it.”

Ryosuke thinks about one. “Gardening?”

Yuto smiles. “Two weeks. A friend of my dad offered some classes and I went with him, ‘cause he’s crazy about exterior designs and growing his own flowers. We had to quit the day he discovered in a not very pleasant way he was allergic to bee’s venom.”

Yamada muffles a laugh. “Ouch. That must have been rough for him.”

“Yeah, I had be in charge of the bakery for three days until he got better. At least I learnt how to take care of a bonsai. I love them, they are so tiny and cool.”

Surprise shows in Yamada’s eyes. “He has a bakery?”

“Yeap. Two streets far from school, actually. Right next to that BBQ restaurant with the ugly green tables?”

“Oh yeah, I think I’ve seen it. Didn’t know it was your dad the owner,” he mumbles, almost for himself. “What about volleyball?”

“That one I really liked it but Keito always managed to receive the ball with face instead with his hands and we always ended up at the nursery after the class finished.”

“How is it every person that accompanies you to do an activity gets injured? Am I gonna get injured for tutoring you?” he asks with fake worry.

Yuto snorts. “Don’t worry, that part we kind of already took care of, remember?”

“You are right,” Ryosuke rolls his eyes but doesn’t seem angry, which is weird because it has become a very taboo topic between them, they rarely bring it up in fear of the other getting fed up again. “Cooking?”

Yuto winces. “Okay, so I know I said I tried every hobby but I _never_ said I was successful at every single one of them. But let me tell you, my boiling water is to _die_ for.”

Ryosuke throws his head back and laughs. “Oh my god, you are such a dork.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“…Polo?”

“Game? Boring. Horses? The most adorable and coolest creatures on this cruel planet. I still go to my uncle’s house just so I can pet Haruto.”

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say Haruto is a horse and not your uncle.”

“God, no. He tries to convince to join the marine whenever I go. It’s the best,” he says with sarcasm. Then, playing with the hem of his t-shirt he asks. “Have you ever tried horse-riding?”

Ryosuke shakes his head. “Never. But it sounds nice, so maybe someday.”

“I could,” Yuto says before he can hold himself back. “I could show you some other time?”

Yamada seems a little taken back but he smiles softly. “I’d like that.”

Yuto clears his throat. Looks outside and realizes the sky is already darker than before. “We should—we should probably study.”

That seems to bring Yamada from some deep thoughts and his eyes actually go wide when he notices how late it is.

It goes relatively quiet after that. Yuto makes sure to listen to Yamada without making any jokes in between, careful of not interrupting him because he sort of likes the calmness of his voice, patiently going through the contents even though Yuto doesn’t get them in the first try. But that’s how Yamada is, he doesn’t like to go on if Yuto doesn’t understand every single word that comes out of his mouth.

When he’s out of the house, about to get on his bike, streetlights already on and a text from his dad asking him if he’s alive already on his phone, Yamada calls him from the balcony of his room. Yuto looks up, surprised and confused.

“What about photography?”

It takes some time for Yuto to know what Yamada is referring to, but when he does he doesn’t know how to respond.

“Ah, well,” he scratches the back of his neck. “I guess that’s like the only thing that has being a constant, because I still like to take photos.”

“What do you like to take photos at?”

“Everything? Nothing? I mean, not nothing but sometimes it’s just—details, or shadows, or sappy sunsets,” Yuto laughs a bit awkward, because there’s no logic in why Yamada might be interested in in this. “But it’s not like I’m good, anyways,” he sighs, kicking a stone on the ground. “Probably not the most useful hobby, I know, I guess I just do it ‘cause I have nothing better to do—”

Yamada cuts him. “Do you like it?”

“Well, yeah—”

“Then I’m sure you are good,” Yamada says and he sounds so sure, almost like if he’s talking about himself. “You can’t be bad if you really love it.”

“What do you know, Yamada?” Yuto teases him, finally getting on the bike. “I never said I loved it.”

The smile Yamada gives him is cryptic. Knowing. Like he can see through him.

“I just do.”

☼

It happens two nights after.

Yuto is sitting on his desk, going through his photo collection, adding the most recent printed photos and writing some note at the opposite side of them. Sort of self-notes, a specific photo in which he liked the lighting he did there, or a reminder of practicing an angle more times, or a sudden memory that the photo brought back to him, a smell, a taste, a feeling. Sharpie words with his messy handwriting.

He has the window open even if it’s evening, because the summer air is nice (“And we need to air this house, dear lord,” his dad had said when he arrived home, earlier than Yuto and Raiya expected). He has Weezer’s White Album playing in the background when it suddenly stops and the sound of an incoming call rings through the players. Yuto shuts the Bluetooth connection, already a complaint in the tip of his tongue because sure, at this hour it must be Keito or one of the boys.

Only, it’s not.

It’s mom.

Cold. Hesitation. Yuto has his eyes fixed in the ID number, thumb about to press the green button as he takes steady breathes and prepares mentally for what might mean to talk with her.

He answers.

“Hi mom,” Yuto says. Crickets are nowhere to be heard.

“Yuto.”

Ah. There it is.

The lack of a simple greeting. The cold tone of voice. The reminder of no matter how many times he tells himself he should be used to it by now, it still feels like a knife to the heart, the pang of pain already settling there.

“I was expecting your call or even Raiya’s,” she continues, severe. “But you never call.”

“You can call us too,” Yuto dares to mumble. It comes snappy even though he’s trying to restrain himself because. Fuck. He was okay. He was in a good place right now. Has been for a while now.

His mother scoffs. “There you go again. Raiya said the exact same thing. Are you the one putting those ideas into his head?” she scolds and—well, that explains why Raiya hadn’t come out of his room to greet Yuto when he arrived. Or refused to eat dinner. “Or is it your father? Do I need to remind all of you again about how _busy_ I am? While you are enjoying your vacations, I’m working non-stop for you and your brother. You should be grateful I could even find some minutes between my meetings to give my both ungrateful sons a call.”

“What do you want, mom,” Yuto says brashly as he does the impossible for the sense of shame and embarrassment twist his stomach. _No matter what she says, it’s not your duty_ , his father had said to them and Yuto is clutching to those words like he’s life depends on it.

A beat of silence. “We are going to have a long talk about manners as soon as I find time to check on both of you,” she threatens. Yuto closes his eyes when she begins to talk again.

It’s hard to believe was the person who Yuto loved the most once. The same who woke him up with a cake on his birthdays, or the one that held his hand tightly the first time Yuto went to school, afraid of letting her go. Of being once the reason of her proud smile when he had the best grades in elementary school, a smile that on the passing years has turned in nothing but silence and disappointment and Yuto’s chronic ability to not meeting her expectations.

As expected, she wants to know how his grades are going, specifically Algebra and Chemistry, because of course, she couldn’t even be bothered about the amount of A’s and compliments he had received from his English, PE, Arts, and Music teachers since those surely won’t get Yuto to work for her company after college. Never mind about the fact that, _hey, my friends are fine, I am fine but summers remind me of the day you left the house and I had to miss school a few weeks because I couldn’t get up from bed and I’ve been listening to super depressing songs until it gets so dark I can see the palm of my hands, and I can’t even fucking allow myself to think about the one thing I love to do the most because you say it’s a waste of time, even though you were the one who taught me about it. Bet you regret it know, don’t you?_

_B_ _ut you know what’s the worst of all, mom?_

Yuto swallows everything up and it feels like swallowing broken glasses. He tells her about the two F’s in Algebra but doesn’t even dare to say a word about the school fight. Tries to soften the blow when he says he’s been having tutoring sessions with one of the top students. Mom doubts about how effective those tutoring sessions might be since he’s an inexperienced students too and manages to slip a _how in the world did you screw up this much, Yuto._ But later, when he’s staring at the ceiling of his room in the middle of the dark, sleep not coming around, he will think about how that comment didn’t alarmed him as much as it alarmed the fact that she was doubting of Yamada’s skills, about how he basically went on a roll about how good Yamada was, how much he was learning with his help and the need to scream about the million things _you don’t know about him, mom. But I know._

And Yuto won’t really remember what kind of voice he used in his attempt to defend Yamada but it managed to convince her, something Yuto should count as big achievement. It doesn’t feel that way but it makes him sigh of relief.

She quickly forgets about the Yamada thing when someone one the other side of the line calls her.

“I expect a better behavior from now on, Yuto. From both of you,” she says, the word _expect_ drilling holes in Yuto’s head. “I’ll have a serious conversation with your father about it since it seems he’s not doing a proper job.”

“Mom, wait—”

“I have to go,” she cuts him off. “Use this summer break time wisely, invest it doing better and not making things worse.”

_No, mom._

_You know what’s the worst thing of all?_

The line goes dead. Warmth radiates from how strong he’s been holding the phone against his ear but he doesn’t feel it. Can’t. It's dead cold.

_The worst thing is that I don’t remember what your warmth felt like anymore._

☼

Of course, the following week is the one when Yamada cancels all their sessions.

Almost four days have passed since Yuto has been feeling like he’s only wasting space and air in the world, sleeping the days off, not even daring to look at the camera bag under his desk and he’s pretty sure he has had his eyes closed more times than open.

Dad had come around and even managed to get him out of his room one day. He didn’t need to ask what was wrong because he probably already discussed with his mom—more like, argued, Yuto would say. He can’t remember the last time they interacted without his mom trashing all his dad’s existence—and just told him he looked like he needed some waffles. Soft and warm waffles with chocolate syrup on top. At least that made Raiya return to his cheerful and annoying self and if Yuto is honest, he even smiled once or twice as his dad went on a full rant about his failed attempts to decorate a cake all by himself without any help of his assistants. Then, they sat outside in the backyard because dad always said sunset hour was magical and able to turn the air in tiny light particles that could warm up any coldness. As the three of them watched the flaming colored sky, golden rays reflecting on his eyes, Yuto felt like he could breathe again, without feeling the crushing heaviness in his chest.

He wakes up on Tuesday in a bedroom that is so hot the first thought that strikes hin, still trying to go out of the dizzying haze, is that he’s on flames. But then, his brain is able to connect the two coherent brain cells he has and supplies it for the word “summer”. Then, “fucking summer.”

A buzz from the night table catches his attention. He flicks his eyes for a moment to his cellphone but then rolls on his side, ignoring it completely.

But then, another buzz. And another. And other and another and—

Yuto rolls his eyes. Anyone who knows him knows about how Yuto never ever answers his phone before 10 AM.

(“Everything before ten in the morning is fake. It’s an invention. It doesn’t _exist_ ,” he said to his friends, one time they had to rehearse for a small showcase in Keito’s dad’s bar. They had to do the practices early in the mornings because Inoo had important meetings with a teacher in the afternoons and Yabu just started working a part-time job in a music store.

“Well, you know what else doesn’t exist?” Hikaru had asked with a small smile.

“What.”

“The two shits I care about your opinion.”

In defiance of light speed, Hikaru dodged the drumstick Yuto threw him pretty fast.)

He stretches and arm without bothering to look, taunting his phone and then lies flat on his back on the bed as he reads the unread messages.

**Unknown number >> Yuto**

**Unknown number:**

hi yuto

i mean, i hope this is your phone and yabu didn’t give me the wrong one

wouldn’t be the first time

needed to contact you asap

nakajima???

hey

ANSWER GODDAMMIT

wait, maybe i typed the wrong number and i’m texting a completely stranger

dear stranger, if that’s the case, hope you can ignore all this omg i’m so sorry

but if you are reading all this without letting me now i do have the wrong number, then you are kind of a jerk, just so you know

**Yuto:**

tf

who’s this

**Unknown number:**

Ryosuke Yamada

That’s enough to make him drop his phone right on his face, hitting the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck,” Yuto hisses at the pain. He grabs the phone again and sees that he accidentally texted something with his nose, which is, by the way, somehow relatable what’s going on inside his head now.

**Yuto:**

fjSKADHds

**The Enemy:**

???

**Yuto:**

sorry, dropped my phone

but yes i am yuto and something tells me you shouldn’t be going around calling strangers jerks

**The Enemy:**

whatever

i needed to talk to you

**Yuto:**

let me see if i have time in my busy schedule for that

okay, you have five seconds.

**The Enemy:**

you are ridiculous

i can’t meet you tomorrow

neither on friday

The frown that falls on Yuto’s face is instantaneous. Also, the deep disappointment spreading all over his body.

**Yuto:**

oh ok

it’s cool

**The Enemy:**

yeah

sorry

**Yuto:**

nah man, it’s fine

was waiting for you to finally get tired of me haha

at least me didn’t kill each other in the middle

**The Enemy:**

what????

no that’s not it, what are you talking about

i mean, you are a pain 24/7 but i’m used to it by now

**Yuto:**

charming as always

**The Enemy:**

anyways that’s not the reason at all

didn’t know i’d have to cancel until

huh

this morning, actually

There’s more he’s not saying. And Yuto long ago stopped caring about denying he’s not interested in what Yamada might tell him.

**Yuto:**

is everything alright?

**The Enemy:**

yeah!

kinda

okay, no

i might have sprained my ankle during practice this morning

Yuto sits up right in one go and tries to remember the last time he heard about Yamada having an accident while playing soccer. He can’t.

**Yuto:**

well shit

**The Enemy:**

my words, exactly

so, i’m sort of texting you from the hospital rn

can’t tutor you from here, can I?

**Yuto:**

is it serious? the sprain?

**The Enemy:**

doctor said i was lucky and that i might be able to run just fine at the end of the week

**Yuto:**

but you are pissed off

**The Enemy:**

no shit sherlock

**Yuto:**

took a wild guess

**The Enemy:**

i’ll miss every morning practice this week

and we have a friendly match against another school next week

and i just had to fuck up

**Yuto:**

hey heeey calm down

it’s a minor injury, not the end of the world

**The Enemy:**

it kind of is

i told you much this means to me

**Yuto:**

i KNOW but, don’t be so hard on yourself

possibilities of not having an accident in a sport you practice every single day without rest are lower than my self-esteem, dude

sometimes it can’t be helped

**The Enemy:**

but uggggggh it was so stupid

i was trying to approach the arc in a different way that I use to do and now the only thing i can think about is what would have happened if i didn’t

i’m so good at making my life harder

**Yuto:**

relatable

Maybe. Just maybe, Ryosuke Yamada is not the worst person in the world.

**Ryosuke:**

mom is yelling me about getting off “that stupid machine”

**Yuto:**

lmao

she’s right tho, u should be resting

don’t worry, we will be cheering for you no matter how that match comes out

**Ryosuke:**

oh

so you are going?

Is he? Yuto asks himself. Now that he thinks of it, it seems pretty obvious, like, of course he will go, even though he doesn’t really like soccer. Even if he didn’t even consider it before this right moment.

Yamada is playing. Of course he’s going.

**Yuto:**

sure

someone’s gotta yell at you to pull your shit together

**Ryosuke:**

right

cool

that’s cool

then i’ll see you there

ok gotta go

**Yuto:**

don’t be a pain to the nurses

also, don’t even try to go to practices when you are supposed to rest

**Ryosuke:**

i wasn’t!

… although i should be fine by saturday practice

**Yuto:**

i’m telling your mom

**Ryosuke:**

you WOULDN’T

**Yuto:**

WATCH ME

**Ryosuke:**

jesus ok FINE

i’ll take the week off, but as soon as it ends i’ll be back

and so will be tutoring

you are not getting rid of me that easily

(:

**Yuto:**

a living nightmare

now i want you to say you will take care of yourself, loud and clear

**Ryosuke:**

i’m gonna… take care of myself?

**Yuto:**

was that an answer or a question

**Ryosuke:**

will you ever let that one go

**Yuto:**

come on

say it louder

**Ryosuke:**

we are texting

emphasis on TEXTING

**Yuto:**

LOUDER YAMADA

**Ryosuke:**

I WILL TAKE CARE OF MYSELF

**Yuto:**

That’s the spirit. See ya next week, Captain

**Ryosuke:**

i hate u

**Yuto:**

:D

☼

“I’m just saying,” Yabu speaks again. Why is he speaking again. “And this is from a totally objective perspective based on empirical experiences of being one of the hundreds of people who witnessed how much Yamada and Yuto hated the fuck out of each other. I _think_ —a small innocent thought! That is really nice of Yuto to come to this match to cheer for him.”

“Kota,” Hikaru gently says over the noisy bustle around them as he side-glanced Yuto with fear.

“Yes?”  
  
“Stop talking.”

“Yep.”

The game hadn’t started yet, but the bleachers are already filled up with people, students, parents, even some teachers where in the lines, singing chants and holding crimson red banners to show their support to the school soccer team. At the other side of the stands, the red was contrasted by the mustard yellow signs of the ones who came to cheer for the visiting team, an audience that tried to catch up with match the fierceness of the local audience.

Even if it’s early—yes, Yuto indeed woke up early for this match and that was kind of what triggered Yabu’s endless rant—Yuto has the impression that half of the city is squeezed up in this school soccer field, but that shouldn’t really surprise him, since the soccer team’s reputation is one that holds prestige in the countless generations that came before this one, a golden title that Yamada and the rest of the team has known how to carry on their backs with a flawless streak.

As it has been for a while now, Yuto finds himself thinking about Yamada again, the only difference is that he doesn’t question it anymore. Players haven’t come out to the field yet but he can’t bet that he must be out there, taking advantage of every minute to warm up and rehearse, worry of the injury probably bugging his head and pushing him to overwork himself, over about the probabilities of losing the game and making one hundred excuses to blame himself if that happens. Or maybe not, and Yuto just thinks he knows Yamada when he actually doesn’t.

But then, right on that second, someone blows a whistle and the player are out walking on the field, crowd roaring on Yuto’s ears in a way that is almost deafening. It doesn’t take Yuto more than ten seconds to spot Yamada, wearing his full red soccer uniform as everyone else on their team.

The only difference is that even from where Yuto stands, he can figure Yamada’s exhausted face and severe eyes. A calculated determination that, for some reason, settles a heaviness on Yuto’s stomach.

“If we win this, we have half of the upcoming summer tournament secured,” Yabu comments. “This is a pretty tough one. The Asuka Academy, a powerhouse high school soccer team. Even if this is a friendly match, I can assure you they ain’t gonna fool around.”

“Neither our team,” Hikaru scoffs. “Yamada looks tired, though,” he adds, furrowing his eyebrows.

“He sprained his ankle,” Yuto says, words coming out in the same beat.

Yabu and Hikaru snap their eyes to him, both of them shocked.

“Wait, what?” Yabu asks

“How do you know that?” Hikaru arcs an eyebrow. The referee calls both teams to the center of the field, probably to give them fair play instructions.

Yuto blinks in confusion. “Wait, you didn’t know?” Yuto asks back, specifically to Yabu, since he’s friends with most of the soccer team members.

Yabu shakes his head. “I mean, from what Chinen told me, he said it was only a small pain that got away with a little rest. He missed two practices but was perfectly fine for the rest of them.”

Ryosuke _fucking_ Yamada.

“Never mind,” Yuto shrugs, and it’s a good thing his voice doesn’t come out shaky. “Sure it was nothing.”

Players are already in their positions; the referee blows the whistle again as she throws the ball in the air and Yuto doesn’t even register how angry he is until he thinks with every ounce of his soul _I’m gonna fucking kill him._

The game starts.

Yuto would be lying if he says he knows where the ball is during the first ten minutes of the game because he’s too focused on how basically the entire contrary team seemed to be in Yamada’s space in a matter of seconds, marking him with an insistence that had Yuto’s frustration crawling up his skin. Also, there’s the fear for his definitely not healed ankle but somehow, whenever Yamada had possession of the ball he manages to dodge every tackle attempt and successfully kicking the ball to someone who’d be strategically waiting for him to pass the ball.

This time is no different. Yamada is dribbling the ball across the field and three players are already in their way to corner him, but immediately, Yamada passes the ball to Chinen in a movement so smooth and fast it’s almost like they are mentally linked. Yamada keeps his position at the opposite side of the field as Chinen breaks into a sprint all the way across the field, everyone jogging to keep up with him but Chinen is like a lightning. He passes the ball to Arioka, a seem like wise strategy since he was already lined up in a very open angle to score a goal, but one of the contrary players manages to jump and head it, Asuka team taking possession now.

It’s a sort of kicking the ball back and forth, but the tension of who’s gonna score the first goal is almost palpable in the atmosphere, the audience exploding in shouts whenever their team gets too close to the opponent’s area.

When Yuto is finally able to keep track of the ball, Nomura is passing it to Arioka, who dribbles the ball to the others area. It becomes a dance of feet as the others try to take possession of it but in the end, the ball ends up passing the goal line. The referee blows the whistle to indicate a corner kick from Horikoshi team, Arioka already positioning the ball in the corner of the field, taking some steps behind and kicking the ball with all his strength right to where his teammates are waiting for the ball.

It happens so fast Yuto barely registers it. Chinen jumps in the air and manages to head the ball, directed to Yamada’s feet, who with a clean right-leg kicks the ball as fast as a bullet, passing right on the goalkeeper side and hitting the net with a powerful force.

The red audience explodes in roars and victorious cheers, the bleachers beneath Yuto’s feet shaking with an earthquake force from all the jumping around them. Yabu gets up so fast from his seat he almost loses his balanced but Hikaru manages to grab his shirt before he falls over the people in the fronts, hands up in furious fists, chanting _GOLDEN FOUR! GOLDEN FOUR!_ along with the people, referring to Yamada's nickname in the tema. Yuto jumps off his seat like everyone else and the smile on his face feels too big on his face as he watches how every member of the Horikoshi team is basically choking Yamada with the number of hugs he’s getting, some of them ruffling his golden locks, beaming and shouting in pure joy.

After they let him go, Yamada looks up, hair a bit messy and sweat on his face but eyes like sparkling diamonds, searching for something on the audience and is in that moment when, his eyes for a single second seem to find Yuto in the bleaches. The field is huge but Yuto thinks you could spot someone from the field, so maybe he’s not seeing things in his head

If Yuto had to describe what happens in that second, the concept of parallel world will pop up in his head immediately, because they lock eyes and there’s a world that presents between the two of them, just for the two of them. Screams get muted when a hint of a smirk appear on Yamada’s face and Yuto has a flashback of the day the day the fought, when he broke the glass of the music room of the second floor and Yuto saw Yamada smile from above. Maybe they’ve been living inside their own world for a long time.

“Hey kid, are you okay?” Hikaru asks.

The moment shatters. The booming around them has died down a bit, and it’s like the world starts moving again. Yuto blinks at his friend.

“Huh?” he startles a little. “Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know,” he narrows his eyes. “It’s just that you’ve been doing this face a lot lately, like you get caught in your own world or something.”

The game is still going on the field. The tension is back among the audience but it tastes more like expectations now, a breath everyone was holding before the first goal was scored. Yuto wants to laugh at Hikaru’s words, but his breath is still caught inside his lungs and he can only think _Dude, if only you knew._

☼

They don’t win the game.

But they also don’t lose because Yamada’s goal in the first time of the game managed to keep them tied, only really stressed out, at the edge of their seats after the guy in the yellow number nine scored in the second half of the second time. In an objective perspective, Yabu had said, when they were going out of the school, it should almost count as a positive progress since Horikoshi had never beaten Asuka’s Academy before, not even the generations previous to this soccer team. And that is an opinion Yuto has seen in most of the red audience’s faces, comments floating around about how the team had managed to keep up with such ad good contrary team, how fast they reacted, how complete was their team, how awesome was the captain.

They don’t lose the game and people clap steady and strong for the team, exploding in cheers and praises.

Yet.

It was a small detail, but since he knew about Yamada’s ankle, Yuto could notice it immediately. Right after the number nine broke in a sprint towards the net to score a goal, Yamada tried with all his might to keep up with him, in a moment being side to side, and just when it seemed like Yamada was going to take the ball away from him, he retracted at the last second, a flash pained look that had Yuto’s heart in his throat, because he thought Ryosuke would fall on the grass from the pain. But he didn’t. He managed to keep on his feet and in a matter of milliseconds, the contrary team was celebrating their first goal. The rest of the game consisted in Yamada shouting instructions everywhere but maintaining some distance from the actual game and at some point, even the coach called him but Yuto could only see how Yamada denied firmly whatever he told him.

Maybe Yuto is reading into things, but he could see the glow of disappointment in Yamada’s face. Very well hidden as he made sure to congratulate every team member with a smile that from an outsider, it could pass as genuine. But Yuto knows better now, he knows how Ryosuke looks when he laughs with every bit of his soul, or his lips pull a small smile that expresses what one hundred words could not. It’s a façade, his captain mask covering the immense regret he must be experiencing.

The need to reach him began to be physically painful for Yuto. He wanted to stay to talk to him, but as soon as they reached the changing rooms to say hi to Arioka and Chinen, Yuto discovered that Yamada had already left.

And so, the day passed. It’s almost 6 pm but Yuto feels like he’s been awake for three days in a row. There’s feeling of being off that has him uncomfortable in his own skin, rolling on the bed from one side to other, pressing the next button of his player because he’s not feeling no one of the songs, taking of his shirt because it’s so hot he has the sensation of moving in slow motion but then putting it on back because Raiya’s friends are downstairs and it has already happened more than once that one of them confuses his room for the bathroom door. He tries to watch a movie but of fucking course, the Wi-Fi decides to go MIA and reset its configuration and Only God Knows what the password is. Keito doesn’t answer his texts, probably busy helping his dad on the bar and there’s this stupid poster of Red Hot Chili Pepper that keeps sticking out of is wall, no matter how many time Yuto tapes it.

Home it’s not a good place to be at this right moment and if Yuto doesn’t get out of it in the next five minutes, he thinks he might actually go crazy.

But right when he’s tying his converses to run downstairs and grab his dad’s car keys, a buzz comes from his phone on the right pocket of his ripped blue jeans.

He takes it out and the text he receives has him hooked for a couple of seconds. Almost a minute

**Ryosuke:**

Have you ever felt like you are just fucking bad at making the right decisions?

Only correct answers rush to his head, like _are you okay_ or _why are you asking me this_ or _it was not your fault_ or _I’m sorry things didn’t turn out like you wanted_

Although, he chooses the wrong one but the most genuine.

**Yuto:**

All the time

And there’s an idea hanging in his head, faintly playing on the tip of his fingers with an itch of just go for it and ask.

**Yuto:**

Do u trust me

He’s not expecting him to reply. Actually, he's expecting a plain NO or some equivalent that will probably have Yuto telling himself he’s it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t hurt.

**Ryosuke:**

Yes

Yuto doesn’t realize he has his mouth open until his phone screen goes black and he can see his dumb face reflected on it.

Before he can have second thoughts, he sends the message.

**Yuto:**

Wanna go for a ride?

There. He throws the phone on the other side of the bed and just… sits there. Heart making flip backs on his chest, telling himself he doesn’t care, Yamada is probably on the soccer team party Yuto refused to go, with his friends around him, there's no way he could actually begin to consider this. And even if he’s not, he may be feeling like shit because of the match and here is Yuto, asking nonsense questions. Yuto didn’t even mention where he wanted to go for a ride, for god’s sake.

A buzz.

Yuto stretches an arm to reach his phone

He doesn’t care. He won’t.

Those two resolutions go flying out the window the moment he reads the two words on his phone screen.

**Ryosuke:**

God yes.

☼

Yuto parks in front of Yamada’s house expecting and it turns out Ryosuke is already waiting for him, sitting in one of the steps of the entrance.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to see him tired, a barely noticeable slump on his shoulders as he walks towards the car, the lack of his usual glow—which is more that understandable since he just got out of an intense soccer match that had him stressed for almost two hours. But—it’s ridiculous because it still makes Yuto have this primal and horrible urge to reach out and put all Ryosuke’s worries in a bag and throw it away.

“Hey,” Yuto offers a smile. This might be the very first time he greets him like a normal human being.

Ryosuke climbs into the car “Hey,” he says back, quietly. He puts the seatbelt on and then curls in himself, looking much smaller and vulnerable than Yuto ever saw him.

They stay quiet for a moment. Yuto can’t find himself to turn on the engine because the silence is loud and heavy.

“Do you wanna go somewhere specific?” Yuto asks, but Yamada only shrugs.

“Wherever is fine,” he mumbles. It’s hard, but Yuto tries not to translate this into a whole leap of faith from Ryosuke.

Finally, Yuto starts the car. “Right answer,” he mutters as he reverses the car out of park, already decided where are they going.

There is something special about driving on the city at golden hour, because every corner gets a small glimmer of warm colors in every shade possible, skyscrapers sparkling in flaming glints at the ends. Entire families are out on the streets and two times more traffic that the usual, but that must be because it’s summer and everything moves slower in summer. Yamada has his window rolled all the way down and his honey hair moves with the flow of the summer breeze, eyes set outside. Yuto knows perfectly he’s not exactly admiring the view.

They are hitting the highway when Yuto finally speaks. “Did you know you can actually use algebra in medicine?”

“Uh?” Ryosuke snaps his gaze from the road, a little confused by Yuto’s sudden comment.

“Like, I always thought this was something you only saw in high school and that I’d never had to use it in real life, that is, unless I choose some major related to mathematics, which, again, I can assure you it’s not happening—”

“What are you talking about?” Yamada cuts him, and it sounds a little hurt. 

Yuto clears his throat. “Well—actually is not only in medicine. It’s used every profession in some way. But, anyways. Doctors. They need to calculate a shit ton of stuffs so I guess it’s good you like math. But if it wasn’t for algebra, they wouldn’t be able to calculate the exact dosage of medication and give the proper amount to someone who, for example, is going through chemotherapy. And I mean, you’d never think such a pain in the ass like algebra could make the difference between saving a patient if they are given the right quota of drugs or plainly killing them or intoxicating them if they are given a single milliliter more. Which, by the way, also applies to simpler things, like, give the right dosage of antibiotics or even a sore throat medicine.”

He stops talking and they sink in silence again, but this time, Ryosuke is not looking through the windows because Yuto can feel the pressure of his eyes on him. If he’s being really honest, Yuto doesn’t know what he wanted to achieve with this ranting but it just occurred him he should say something. Anything. And he’d read that information one time he was searching for videos on how to solve equation systems and didn’t want to ask Ryosuke again in fear of him mocking him for not remembering something that was kind of basic at this point.

(Although, Yuto now is realizing it was just an excuse, Ryosuke would have never done that because and the empirical evidence was on the third time they met for tutoring, which the first half only consisted on Yuto making jokes on how bad he was at math and _sorry I’m making so many mistakes but I’m kind of an idiot for anything related to numbers_ , until Ryosuke stopped him in his tracks and told him that he had another rule to add:

“And from now on, you can’t break it. It’s not allowed because if you do, I’ll physically fight you.”

Yuto scoffs. “Okay. Number one, we both know that wouldn't end up well. Two, I could easily take you, you are like, a medium size midget—

“Fuck you.”

“—and three, you know this math stuff is beyond me, Yamada. I’m basically a certified idiot at this, which, by the way, totally the reason why I’m stuck here in the first place.”

“That’s because you are conditioning yourself about being bad at it. Let me tell you something, Nakajima,” he had said in the most serious tone Yuto had ever seen him. “Math is not supposed to be difficult, but it’s not supposed to be fun either. It’s a set of rules, as simply as that. You learn them, you follow them, and you’ll come to the same result over and over again because this is not a humanities field and it’s certainly not an art. It’s not up for interpretation. There are different ways to come to that result, but in the end,” he pointed to the exercise Yuto had just done wrong. “The only way you come to the wrong conclusion is because either someone was an absolutely shit at teaching you or they managed to convince you that you couldn’t do it.” Yuto doesn’t remember what kind of expression he had, but he does remember that it was one of the first times Yamada smiled at him, genuinely. “You are not allowed to say you suck at this from now on, okay? It’s okay to make mistakes because it’s the only way to know you are trying to be better. And you are going to get better, I’m gonna make sure of that.”)

Ryosuke has opened his mouth twice but closed it also twice, probably because he’s not really sure what to say or regretting whatever he might say. Yuto doesn’t blame him, since even he isn’t really sure what he wanted to achieve with it but still, it doesn’t matter but, _please, for the love of God, just say something because I hate seeing you like this._

“I—” Yamada has his eyes furrowed. “Are you making fun of me?”

His head snaps to Ryosuke and thank god they are in red light because _what._

“What.”

Yamada tries to explain. “It’s just. I thought you were trying to, I don’t know. Get a reaction of me, and. Huh.”

“I am. Doesn’t mean I’m doing it to mock you or something like that,” Yuto says. “Actually, I don’t even know how the hell would that even work?”

Apparently, Yamada doesn’t know too because he lets a sigh out and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s—I’m not making any sense right now. Forget it.”

“Rough day, huh?” there’s green light now.

“Yeah,” Ryosuke says softly. “Yeah, you could say that.”

The sun is setting when they go over the dirt track and this is the first time in the whole trip when Yamada does look interested in where they are. He rolls up the window so the dirt of the road doesn’t get inside and steals glances to Yuto like he wants to ask, but for some reason, he doesn’t. 

As they go up in the road, the whole city comes into view, building and houses roofs tainted with the golden glow of the sun. Ryosuke leans to see the landscape under them through the window, this time paying every attention to his surroundings.

“Where are we?” Yamada asks as Yuto parks and pushes the handbrake down. Yamada unbuckles his seat-belt first and is immediately out of the car to check the view properly, since they are right on the top.

Yuto un-clips his seat-belt too and goes out, shielding his eyes against the intense orange light ahead in the horizon.

Ryosuke is already watching the sprawling landscape in front of them. The city spreads below them, buildings rising chaotically organized, greens spots meddling their way between the wide spaces, people and vehicles in the size of ants rushing along the intertwined streets in a whole single network of paths, everything shimmering under the sun reflection of a burning sky, in a way that makes everything look breathtaking and a bit too much, the feeling of being such an insignificant living thing at the back hitting like it always does whenever Yuto comes here. A single glance at Yamada tells him he’s not the only one amazed by the view.

“It’s an old viewpoint, people doesn’t come often here ‘cause the road is kind of rough and there are others with better access,” Yuto grins. He feels some sort of pride of being the one responsible for such an astonished reaction from Ryosuke. “I used to come here when I was a kid. My, huh, mom had a photography hobby long time ago and she took me here to teach me. Showed me there are some views worth of immortalizing.”

Yuto’s eyes can’t help to fall on Yamada again, the sparkle inside his chest and the itchy feeling of grabbing a camera and capturing his lighted up face stronger than what he’s able to hold.

After some seconds of admiring, Yamada turns to Yuto. “You guys come here often?

Yuto bites the inside of his cheek. “No. Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Um,” Yuto clears his throat. “My parents got divorced and she—she’s not around anymore.”

He leaves it like that and Yamada doesn’t push further, although there’s a way his eyes narrow a little in understanding that there’s more Yuto he’s not saying. Yuto is grateful that he doesn’t keep asking.

“It’s a good place to be when you feel like all the world is crushing you,” Yuto explains. “Sometimes I just come to take some pictures, other times I come whenever I have the need to complain about life, you know? There’s this thing about having the chance to experience this kind of views that just. I don’t know, puts everything in a different perspective. It’s a view that makes you feel so small and so… insignificant.”

Yamada turns his gaze to the sunset in front of them.

Yuto continues. “That’s not a bad thing, though” he chuckles, folding his arms. “‘Cause all the things in your life that seem to overwhelm you and stress you, and the feeling of fucking up every time you breathe is—we are nothing. You won’t make a change in the whole cosmic system of the universe. You can’t completely fuck up entirely and even if you do—”

“Why do you care?” Ryosuke cuts him abruptly, almost angry. But looking into his eyes Yuto can see a hint of genuine curiosity hidden very well, probably waiting to be solved just as much as Yuto wants to find a proper answer to it. “As far as I know, you don’t like me. Never did.”

Yuto rolls his eyes. “The fact that you are my sworn nemesis doesn’t mean—Look. I’ve always thought there must be something about you,” Yuto hates the way his ears feel hot. “You are confident and sure about yourself and what you want in life and people are drawn to you, like—like you are the fucking sun, and you are not even trying, is so effortless in a way that had me asking myself what in the world did they ever see about you.”

“Is this your way to make me feel better? ‘cause you are kind of being really shit about it.”

“Shut up,” Yuto smirks. “After spending a lot of my time during summer, I’ve come to no conclusion at all and it kind of freaked me out because, well. I don’t _don’t_ like you anymore and I don’t know how the hell that happened,” there it is, the inevitable truth. “And now, you are sad and down because of whatever is going on your head but—I don’t want to see you sad. Can’t. It annoys me as much as it you annoyed me before.”

“We could have _won_ that game," Ryosuke grits his teeth. "But I fucked up. I’m allowed to be sad, don’t you think?”

Yuto nods. “You are. Doesn’t mean I can’t do something about it.”

Yuto could say that hours were spent besides Ryosuke, sitting by his side as the day died in front of their eyes, the flame on the sky getting weaker with the ticking of the clock, a voice in the back of his head telling me, making him realize that he could stay like this for a lot more of time. A really radical contrast to what was before summer, when he couldn’t even stand to be in the same radio that he was.

When Ryosuke speaks again, is soft and delicate. Vulnerable. “I’m not always so sure of myself.”

“You sure make a good work at hiding it,” Yuto says. “I can never tell when you are having a hard time. Not even back in high school, I think I can’t name a single time I saw you like a mess.”

“Yes, you did,” Yamada smiles. “Usually, all the times I was around you was a spiral of things I couldn’t control. Or be exactly sure of. I felt like you challenged every part of my existence and I guess it became—”

“Addictive?” Yuto offers and Ryosuke laughs this time but nods in affirmation. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Cars are passing by down the streets but they are only muffled sounds from up here. Yuto looks at Yamada’s profile and the way the light seems to be just part of him blows Yuto’s mind for a second. He’s not considered a sap per se, and he’s not the one to be throwing compliments like rose petals on a wedding but the only word that writes itself on his mind with sparkly shining glints is _ethereal._

Ryosuke looks absolutely ethereal under the sunset light.

“Sometimes is not a good thing knowing what you want in life," Yamada says. "It gives you a sort of fake image of what you should be from the point you sort yourself out, you know? Like, how you have to be in order to achieve this, or what do you have to do to achieve that. Then, if you are not careful enough, it’s very similar to be blind to everything that not makes you reach what you want. Your dream or whatever you want to be. Especially if you are fucking competitive and ambitious like I am.”

“You wish you weren’t sure about what you want?” Yuto asks. “Talking for personal experience here, it’s not nice.”

“No. Sorry, I wasn’t implying that. I know it’s much easier if you do know. But—ah, how do I explain it?” he takes a pause, breathes in the light particles of the summer air. “I try hard. Always. But sometimes, I try _too_ hard. And in the end, it all goes to shit, just because of one single detail I missed or I didn’t think beforehand.”

“You are talking about your sprained ankle,” Yuto says. Ryosuke nods. “Does it still hurt?” he doesn’t tell him about how he know he didn’t have proper rest, because Yamada already looks like he’s regretting everything he did.

“Feels a bit sore. Nothing unbearable. Which is why I decided to go to some practices and training last week. And it didn’t hurt at any time but today, of course. Just when I was about to block that ball, I felt like my muscles became bubble gum in just a second.” Yuto remembers it, the flashing pain expression that came across Yamada in that crucial moment. He just didn’t know how much Yamada was beating himself for it. “It was only a match, I—I know that. Everyone kept saying I shouldn’t even worry, that at least it wasn’t an o-official game.”

“But that doesn’t make the feeling less awful.”

Yamada passes his arm over his face, and something breaks inside of Yuto. “It’ doesn’t. It’s f-fucking awful.”

His voice breaks at the end and Yuto is lost again. Hopeless. People like Yamada shouldn't be sad for this. People that work untiringly to reach their goals, raw definition of sacrificing the things no one matters at this age, replacing reckless teenage years for mornings every day doing what Yuto isn’t even sure if Yamada likes, just so he can be the person he always wanted to be one day.

“W-what if it had been an official match? We—we would have been out of the tournament in a second and I wouldn’t have been able to apply to the scholarship. It wouldn’t had mattered a-all the hours I spent studying and practicing because the result is what only matters. And I fucked it up. Just because I tried to do a— _stupid_ thing just to see if I could be better at scoring,” Yamada sniffs, voice trembling. “W-what if I don’t get the scholarship and it’s because I f-fucked up again? What if—”

“Oh, Ryosuke, no,” Yuto says almost in a whispers, his body reacting immediately as he passes an arm around him, delicately but firm. “Don’t say that.”

They don’t touch like this. But sometimes, Yamada would challenge him to try this new game he bought and at the end, he’d end up falling asleep on Yuto’s shoulder, especially if training had him worn out in the mornings before tutoring. And Yuto would let him rest, his body taking memory of the warmth against his shoulder, blonde hairs tickling the side of his neck and for the most part, trying not to notice of perfect his body curled around his side.

And now that Ryosuke leans on him, like it’s something he’s always been doing, clenching his small hands on Yuto’s black shirt and let out a muffled sob, Yuto holds him like it’s a second nature. Runs his hands through his golden locks and lets him tremble against his body until it gets less and less shaky, breathing eventually evening out.

“I’m gonna be really honest with you,” Yuto says after a while, when the quietness has become less heavy, sun already gone in the sky and the faint remains of sunlight are fading under the deep blue of the night. “I’m not the best at taking right decisions.”

Yamada lets out a shaky small laugh. “I kind of guessed that, since the moment you decided to punch me straight on the face.”

“As I was saying,” Yuto remarks. “I look back at many things I went through that I could have changed if I’d known how to make good decisions. Smart ones or… easy ones. I could have chosen to wear shorts today since it’s fucking hot in here but I refused because I look like a dumbass with them. I could have chosen to study math by my own or pay enough attention to get decent grades. I could have not punched you, and you wouldn't had to see me this summer.”

Yamada raises his head, eyes a bit swollen but wide in surprise, a pink shade spreading around his cheeks and nose.

“But mistakes are not always a black and grey thing," Yuto breathes. "They just happen, doesn’t matter if you give the best of you or not. It hurts, I know. It’s gonna make you want to quit, feel like utter shit you, almost wanting to jump out of a cliff just to feel bit of sunset sunlight on your hands. And you work hard, Ryosuke. So _so_ hard. But you are not supposed to be perfect. Even people who works hard fucks up. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, is that you will land that scholarship, no matter what, and you are gonna be the best fucking doctor in the country but even then, you are supposed to make mistakes on the way.”

If Ryosuke could see himself through Yuto’s eyes, there wouldn’t be any doubts bugging him, so Yuto needs to tell him.

“And it’s okay to make mistakes, because that’s the only way you will know you are trying to be better.”

At this point, Yamada has stopped crying all together, instead is staring at Yuto and he keeps doing it for a long time.

“Hey,” Yuto elbows him playfully. “Are you listening to me?”

Ryosuke smirks, that same question being asked by him some time ago.

It gives Yuto again a storm of flashbacks to the one time he caught Ryosuke looking at him from the soccer field after breaking the window of the second floor, the way his lips are pulled are almost identical to the smile he had when they locked eyes, like he wanted to Yuto to pay attention because back then and now, there’s something behind that expression, but it brings out a whole different reaction from Yuto because—

Right in that moment, Yuto wanted to punch that face off his smile. Erase the buzzing that goes under his skin whenever they eyes connect.

And the thought hits him like a thunder.

Because now, he doesn’t want to punch that smile.

“You are so amazing, Yuto,” Ryosuke says in a smile voice that echoes in every fiber of his soul. Disarms him in a way that he’d never thought Yamada could do. Because damn straight it can now.

Now that Yuto knows.

_Fuck,_ Yuto thinks, air stuck on his lungs. _I’m fucked_.

(It’s late at night, back on his room as he rolls over and over again on his bed to find some peace of mind and finally get some sleep, it’s only then when the words _you are so amazing_ , _Yuto_ and Ryosuke’s smile comes to his mind and his chest feels so tight trying to imprint those memories and make room for them, like they always belonged in a corner of his heart, it’s only then when Yuto gets finally an answer that manages to tie to the ground every floating question around Ryosuke.

Because there, in the viewpoint, Yuto didn’t want to punch that smile.

He wanted to kiss it.

Holy shit, he _wants_ to kiss it so bad.)

☼

Well then.

Yuto has a crush on Ryosuke.

And what about it? Is not like Yuto’s gonna tell him. He should, that’s for sure but maybe in a further future. Like, in the next life, for example.

In this life, Yuto is the number one supporter of dying with his lips sealed, feelings hidden and keeping the ‘ _I’m your rival but maybe you are not so bad to hang around with'_ agenda _’_ healthy and alive. It safe, since those are waters Yuto has tested, swam, dove in, made a back-flip as he jumped and even drowned.

Because every time he dares to fantasize with the mere idea of getting too close to anything romantic with Yamada, it just turns into one of those scenes where the main protagonist pours his entire heart to sing about all the different ways they love their co-protagonist (not that Yuto is in love, by the way. Yet) and the other just laughs in their face or say something like please, _don’t even joke about that_ or his face turns into a mix of confusion-disgust that could potentially ruin Yuto. Made him cry in the shower until the water runs cold.

But—there are also these moment when Ryosuke acts strange. Like he suddenly forgets how to be around Yuto. He would do something or say something that takes Yuto so off guard that his head would find the way to interpret every single action in favor of this new discovered attraction towards him, so he tries to never look into them much. Let the self-preservation brain cell take charge and step of every spark of hope that fires from time to time.

☼

“So like,” Daiki says, legs crossed on the sand. “I’m almost 50% sure that one should be a door.”

Yabu hums, like he’s really taking Daiki’s criticism in. “What about the remaining percent?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Inoo asks Daiki, horrified. “How in the world—scratch the fifty percent, I’m 150% sure _that_ is just a hole in the sand.”

Hikaru sighs and turns his head to Keito and Yuto. “Hey, assholes.”

They are both under a colorful parasol, Keito cross-legged and reading a book while Yuto is next to him, lying down shirtless, only in his swimming trunks with his sunglasses and headphones on at max volume.

“What,” Keito asks, not even looking up from his book.

“Sandcastle competition,” Hikaru just says. Keito takes a moment before closing his book and then, he doesn’t even bother to look at their sand castle, staring at Yabu’s and Hikaru’s expectant faces instead, like he’s losing his faith in humanity with every passing second.

“In what way did you both think it was a good idea to challenge Inoo in a sandcastle competition? He basically has one foot in one of the best architecture faculties of the country, he could build you the fucking Taj Mahal if he wanted to.”

Hikaru holds an accusing finger “But he promised he wouldn’t pull the architecture bullshit on this and these are simple _sandcastles,_ and he’s fucking cheating over our...our—”

“Mashed potatoes,” Inoo says. “That’s the word you are looking for.”

Hikaru let’s a frustrated noise and hits Yabu’s naked arm. “I told you we should have gone for a towered style!”

Amused, Keito elbows Yuto. “Dude, you gotta see this.”

Yuto takes one headphone out. “Huh?”

“They are doing the castle thing _again_.”

Yuto seats and rises his sunglasses to take a look. Then, he throws his head back and let’s a loud laugh out under Hikaru’s frown.

“It kind of reminds me of what bread looks like before my dad starts to bake it.”

Yabu smiles. “Actually, that doesn’t sound so bad. Your dad makes the best bread in the world.”

“Okay, smartasses. If you are so critical over our work then how is Inoo and Daiki’s?”

“Beautiful.”

“Gorgeous.”

“I lowkey wanna be a tiny Disney princess so I can just live inside Inoo’s castle,” he says.”

“Did you help too, Daiki?” Keito asks

“Of course not. If he wanted us to win I had to keep my mittens out of the sand.”

“You were supposed to help me, though,” Inoo teases.

“Babe, I literally love you so much but you know that my hands are not for creating masterpieces like yours,” he chuckles as he stands up

“Right,” Inoo also stands up and they start to walk to the beach. “But even I can think about other things you could do with your hands.”

“Nope,” Hikaru covers his ears. “I refuse to listen to this. Fucking _gross_ , guys.”

They laugh as they walk towards the ocean. Hikaru also stands up as he mumbles something about basic decency as he grabs the bucket they were using and goes to fill it, since Yabu wants to keep doing figures on the sand, now little turtles.

July is about to end now and the beach is painted by the different colors of the parasols on the beach. The salty breeze the sea brings caresses Yuto’s face, making his muscles relax, feet buried under the golden gentleness of the sand and the sound of waves crashing onto the shore with a soft roar. There’s a drift sensation that comes with days like this, one of the few places that can actually make Yuto feel like there are no problems in life worth of worrying. And it’s nice, to be able to breathe deeply all in. Is nice.

This is pretty much like all the beach days they’ve had like since they are friends but Daiki’s addition since him and Inoo started dating is still something new to Yuto. It’s not unpleasant or uncomfortable at all, Daiki is one of those people you can’t dislike, he’s hilarious and his smile contagious. Also, Yuto finally has someone who can keep up with him whenever he wants to do something crazy. Like he has always been part of them, but…

But the fact that they now hang out with Daiki, also means they also hang out with—

“Oh,” Keito glances at something behind him. “Here they are.”

Yuto doesn’t really have to turn around to look what Keito is referring too. Not so long ago, Chinen had texted about he and Yamada would arrive a few minutes late than the rest.

He hears Chinen saying hi to Keito and when he comes into his vision, he sees him waving at Yabu and Hikaru, who have already a whole family of sand turtles built. Yuto just smiles at him and waits for Yamada to appear somewhere, to just say something or joke about how red Yuto’s naked arms and back are since he didn’t put any sunscreen on, or maybe challenge him to a swimming race like he said he would do yesterday. 

But nothing comes. Yuto wonders if Yamada even came with Chinen, so he finally turns around.

Unless he’s having a vision, it turns out Yamada did come. Actually, he’s standing right behind Yuto, staring right at him, like someone pressed a pause button on him, the backpack hanging over his left shoulder almost slipping all way down his arm but Yamada is not even bothered by it because he’s still _staring_ at Yuto like he’s terrified of what he’s seeing. Whatever it is.

“I know, I look like a crab but in my defense, my brother lost the sunscreen yesterday when he came to the beach with his friends,” Yuto puts his sunglasses on again. It isn’t until Yamada closes his mouth that Yuto realizes he’s jaw was practically on the ground.

Chinen has a grin on his face that’s too wide to be genuine. “Ryosuke! Come sit with me, my dear best friend!”

Ryosuke jumps at Chinen’s voice like he’s been shot. “Arms. What. Yes,” the bag finally slips down his arm and falls to the sand. “I’m just—just gonna. Um,” he gestures to the bag and he awkwardly picks it up, movements almost robotic.

He passes next to Yuto, not even sparing him a glance and Yuto can’t help but arc an eyebrow at his strange behavior. Next to him, Keito seems like he’s about to break into laughter.

Yamada's cheeks are really red, probably because of the heat, Yuto thinks. And he is even sitting down in front of him, doesn’t take his eyes from Yuto.

“What are you looking at, weirdo?” Yuto asks

“What” he blurts out again. “Nothing. The parasol. What.”

“Hey, Yamada. Why don’t you lend Yuto your sunscreen?” Chinen suggests. “Actually, you could help him to put some of it over his very naked ab—”

“Hey, Chinen!” Yamada cuts him, snapping his wide eyes to Chinen “I want to swim. You wanted to swim. I need a swimming partner, come on,” he gets up in one jump and yanks Chinen’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

Yamada runs so fast to the sea Chinen has to jog a little to keep up with him.

“The hell was that about?” Yuto asks, confused. Keito sighs but the smile is still on his face. “Do I have something funny on my face?”

“I wouldn’t say it was your face,” Keito offers but Yuto only frowns because he doesn’t understand. “I’m more impressed about the fact you are okay with being in the same place as him.”

Yuto rolls his eyes and then looks at the ocean, how Inoo and Daiki try to splash water over Ryosuke and Chinen. “Don’t know if you remember, but I’ve been having tutoring sessions for almost a month now. I can handle some meters of closeness.”

He can sense how Keito shrugs. “I don’t know. Before, if I ever mentioned Yamada, you kind of were like Misha whenever I played the guitar at home."

"How the fuck is that?"

"Like you wanted to flee out of the country. This is kind of refreshing.”

What Keito doesn’t know is Yuto is still a bit cagey when it comes to Yamada, but for a whole set of different reasons now. Reasons that he doesn’t want to talk about now. Or ever.

However, Keito keeps the topic going. “How is tutoring going? You don’t talk too much about them as you did before.”

“We are just doing exercises. He already taught me all the contents I needed to pass the exam,” Yuto shrugs. That’s true. “There’s not much to talk about, really.”

But that—

That’s a big fucking lie.

Because he could talk about what happens after they are done. How they seem to linger every single time, a constant feeling of not wanting to go home and sometimes that would mean Yuto tags along every time Ryosuke has to go grocery shopping or stays to play video games in his room until it starts to get dark and Raiya sends him a text asking him if he’s alive. There are other times when they doesn’t even get to revising their notebooks because Yamada would start a full rant of this Leonardo DiCaprio movie he just saw and Yuto would listen to him and tease him about his giant crush on the actor, while repressing the feeling of wanting to compete against a Hollywood star (Yuto is never _ever_ going to confess this one), then they would just sit and watch said movie and Ryosuke would probably start going off about his favorite actor again at this point and Yuto would have to pretend he hasn’t been staring at his profile like he’s just discovered the meaning of life in the gentleness of his features.

He could talk about that. Write a hundred-page essay of it. And Keito wouldn’t tease him about it, he would listen and he would probably throw him a piece of advice to solve the mess that is Yuto’s head right now.

“So, you like him now?” at the word “like”, all the sirens light up in Yuto’s head and he’s about to say something stupid like in what sense are you talking about, but the Keito says. “He’s cool right?”

Yuto starts playing with the cover of Keito’s book. “I mean, I tolerate him. He’s not, like, the worst person in the world, I’ll give you guys that. Top five? Sure, but not the worst at least.”

"Wow you are really growing up.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you friends now?”

“Am I in an interrogatory? Feels like I’m in one.”

Keito chuckles “Sure. Tell me what were you doing last night?”

“Huh,” Yuto swallows.

“Oh my god,” Keito gasps. “You were together?!”

Yuto flushes a deep red. “It was tutoring day!”

“And as I recall, those were in the afternoons, not at _night_.”

“He just,” Yuto tried to explain with his hands, Hates how his voice comes shaky. “He just didn’t know how to download movies from his laptop so I, huh—he annoyed me until I gave in and taught him,” he swallows. “He was very annoying.”

Keito blinks, dumbfounded. “Wow.”

“Shut up.”

Keito does remain silent. He does for a couple of minutes, has this guarded expression on his face, like he’s not sure of what to do with this information. At least he’s not teasing Yuto and maybe he should be grateful about it but it also seems like Keito already has figured out the one crucial detail inside all Yuto’s nonsense.

The soft hiss of the waves lull Yuto for a moment and he lets himself drift for a moment. He can see Ryosuke from here, how Chinen is trying to climb up his back and how he loses his balance with every attempt but breaks into throw head back laughs. How the light flicks into his frame in a way that makes Yuto want to get closer and touch every shade of the orange glow on his sun kissed skin.

“Yuto?” Keito calls suddenly, and Yuto snaps from his head to him. “Whatever is going through your mind, you can always talk to me,” he smiles. “You know that, right?”

A rush of fondness and gratefulness tightens his chest, lips pulled into a lopsided smile.

“I know,” he mutters, loud enough for Keito to hear.

☼

One Friday, they agree to do tutoring at Yuto’s due to an emergency on Ryosuke’s house.

(“I don’t really see how a family reunion is an emergency,” Yuto had said to the phone the night before, as he fixed the front zipper of his camera bag, sewing cross legged on his bed.

“That’s because you’ve never been to one,” Ryosuke had told him. “I mean, I love my family crazy, don’t get me wrong, but God, I can’t stand being with them more than an hour. They always end up fighting over either politics or soccer and then, they would drag me in the conversation ‘cause, you know, I play soccer and all will probably end up squeezed between my aunts pinching my cheeks and complaining about how I haven’t brought a girl for them to meet.”

Yuto had not accidentally pinched his finger at the last thing Ryosuke said, don’t be ridiculous.)

After six pages of trigonometric functions exercises and ten minutes straight of Yuto complaining about how he never ever wanted to see an 'x' after high school was over, Ryosuke spends almost an hour going through Yuto's vinyl collection, even though he doesn’t know half of the bands, playing whatever catches his attention. Yuto gives him random information about the band, song or album they listen, silently watching him from his bed, pretending to be on his phone scrolling through messages but actually stealing glances every time Yamada turns his back at him to change the vinyl. He has to repress a smile when he recognizes Ryosuke’s pattern of picking every warmth colored vinyl he founds. That’s how they go from Weezer’s Red Album to Pearl Jam’s Ten, The Smith’s Louder Than Bombs, Pixie’s Indie Cindy, Coldplay’s Yellow, Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of The Moon, until the sound of the car engine parking on the garage breaks in between songs.

Dad had texted Yuto telling him he’d come home early to meet Ryosuke, which Yuto didn’t even gave it much thought until he saw his dad coming with two bags on each hand, one of take out and the other with a box of cupcakes he’d brought from the bakery, a beaming smile on his face as he invited Ryosuke to stay for dinner.

“It was so crowded I almost gave up and went to buy ramen instead, but I’ve been wanted to try that _shabu-shabu_ restaurant for a while now,” Mr. Nakajima takes the take-out boxes out of the bags as Ryosuke and Yuto set the table. “My assistants were driving me crazy with how much they talked about it—”

Ryosuke pauses a little. Yuto raises an eyebrow.

Then, he says something but he says it so low Yuto doesn’t catch it at first, so Ryosuke leans a bit and whispers on his ear, Yuto’s entire left side tickling with the sudden close warmth.

“I’m allergic to crabs,” he mutters shyly to Yuto but unfortunately for Ryosuke, Mr. Nakajima choses that exact moment to stop talking and hears Yamada.

“Oh, don’t worry, kiddo! Yuto spammed me with, like, with thirty messages telling me about that and I passed by the BBQ local next to the bakery. Here,” he puts the only brown take out box in front of Ryosuke, who for a reason is looking at it intensely with an expression Yuto can’t quite decipher.

He tries to ignore the way his heart shakes when he realizes Ryosuke’s eyes are also on him during the entire dinner.

☼

It’s Inoo’s idea at first, a tentative suggestion that doesn’t sound convinced, until Daiki chimes in and goes on a full ramble of how his grandparents have this house on the beach, and they are going to Europe this summer and they need someone to look after it, so of course, it’s only logical that all eight of them to stay a whole week there.

Well—Nine. The infamous Yuya Takaki appears and takes everyone by surprise, standing on the doorway of the beach house on their second night, and there are a lot of screams from Daiki, Chinen and Ryosuke literally strangling the tall guy from how tight they hug him. Turns out Takaki is spending a month in Japan, classes in Australia already over for the semester, but he said nothing to any of them because he wanted it to be a surprise. Chinen threatens him of one more surprise and _you’ll have to sleep with an eye open ‘cause you almost gave me a fucking heart attack, what the fuck._

Soon enough, Yuto learns Yuya is one of the coolest and most naturally handsome people he’s ever seen. Then he learns that he’s close, _really_ close to Ryosuke, right after he notices that the number of times Yamada back hugs him are more than the number of days they are staying there. It’s not jealousy per se, Yuto really doesn’t have any right on even begin to be bothered by it, only a tiny pang on chest because he wishes he could be the object of Yamada’s hugs. Besides, it’s practically impossible have the slight bad feeling about Yuya because the guy is full of random comments that have Yuto holding his stomach of laughter and on the night they decide to make a small bonfire on the beach, Yuya pulls out an ukulele out of the blue and starts to sing a Ragamuffs song that Yuto loved and thought was the only human being who knew it. So he ended up singing along with him until they were drunk and couldn’t remember the correct lyrics.

It’s one of the best weeks of Yuto’s life and when he returns home, he feels ten times happier than he’d ever felt in ages, the sensation of a permanent ache on his face from how much he laughed, a lightness on his body even though he as both arms and legs roasted in sunburns.

That night, everyone demands in the group chat—Chinen, Arioka, Ryosuke and Takaki added now, the chat group renamed ‘ _Chinen and the low creatures’_ —for Yuto to reveal the dozens of photos he took with his camera. He gets them back three days later, a thick yellow package covered with transparent tape, piles of photos inside and decides to take a look before showing them to everyone, weirdly excited to see how they came out.

Yuto separates them in two piles and starts checking them, seating on his desk in a warm summer night. 

There are lots of photos of them in Yabu’s van, more than Yuto thought he'd taken but then realizes that at some point, Chinen and Inoo had sneaked Yuto’s camera while he was sleeping and had a full photoshoot of them making double-chin faces. Yuto laughs until there are tears in his eyes and he separates them from the rest with a reminder of getting them framed.

There are some photos of the house, little cozy corners that Yuto wanted to immortalize in different angles and lightnings, a photo of all of their suitcases and bags piled together, photos of them unpacking, Ryosuke behind the kitchen counter as he chopped carrots. Then immediately, a five-photo sequence of Yabu, Yuto, Daiki and Chinen attempting to put the meat in the boiling oiled frying pan with hands covered in oven mitts and using saucepans as helmet to protect themselves from the boiling oil, the last photo of the actual frying pan burning in a big flame.

The rest of the photos are a mix: Daiki, Hikaru and Keito in the middle of a water fight in the ocean, Inoo burying Yabu’s entire body under the sand that has Yuto having flashbacks of how that very afternoon, Yabu had disappeared for some hours and they'd started to think Inoo had actually put him six feet under the sand (turned out he had walked to the town in search of good places to eat and share with them). Some sequences of Chinen doing back-flips, another of Daiki joining him but only achieving to miserably roll on the ground. Shots of every glass Keito managed to broke (five) until there’s one showing his baby proof plastic glass that saved Daiki’s grandparents glass set. One of Yamada looking at the ocean, sunlight reflecting on his sunglasses in a way that made him look like a model (Yuto is not being biased here), Inoo reading a book on the window seat with the pink glow of the sky over him, Keito’s hands holding a baby turtle they had found far away from the ocean and helped it to return to the water, Takaki failed attempts to make salad, only some lettuce leaves on the bowl. Photos of the rocky cliffs Hikaru and Daiki found on the fifth day, shots of the purple and orange sky, then some photos of Chinen, and himself jumping into the ocean.

One of Daiki giving a big kiss to Inoo’s cheek, Kei smiling the brightest Yuto had ever saw him. Some of the bonfire, Inoo teaching Yabu the dance moves of th latest TWICE song, Hikaru’s scandalous face in the background and Ryosuke’s grinning widely. Takaki and Yuto hugging as they sang their lungs out. Hikaru’s sleeping with his head leaning on Yabu’s shoulders, Yabu’s head leaning over Hikaru’s head. Keito and Chinen dead asleep in the sand, Keito’s arm over Chinen’s face.

Then there are the photos that Yuto doesn’t really know if he wants to show to his friends. Mainly because he didn’t mean to take them or he didn’t mean to take _so many_ of them, Ryosuke being the subject of almost forty out of a hundred and ten pictures. They are from random parts of his body, his little hands in contrast of the sunlight, feet buried on the sand, a close up of his right eye, clear brown eyes with tiny sparkles, tons of his sun kissed profile, Ryosuke cooking, Ryosuke sleeping on the beach, Ryosuke blurred as he was in motion, Yamada laughing at the camera, at someone, at Yuto and Yuto smiling back—you really don’t need to be a genius to know there’s something hiding in there. Complicity. Glimpses of a scenes that are worth to capture, to immortalize, because that’s how Yuto has been taught to use his camera, to worship the beauty in front of him. And Ryosuke is the most beautiful person Yuto has ever met.

He takes some of the Yamada-centered ones, hides them in a corner of his wall shelf. Except for _one_. The one photo of Ryosuke that is looking right at the camera, lips pulled in a wide smile, cheeks flushed, eyes exploding with sunlight stars as he smiled fondly at some stupid joke Yuto said and now doesn’t remember.

He puts it in his own personal photo collection, because the chills that particular expression sends him are enough to spark the flame of hope in him again. At this point, Yuto thinks he’s kind of a masochist.

He keeps it, because it’s the only photo in which Ryosuke looks like he is worshiping _him._

☼

“I am telling you,” Chinen repeated, face determinate. “I am gonna marry this guy.”

“Chinen,” Yuto argued an eyebrow, chopsticks full of hot noodles midair. “He’s fucking _sixteen_.”

“No, no that’s his little brother, who the fuck do you think I’m talking about?” Chinen scoffs, the waitress bringing both of their drinks at that moment.

Yuto narrows his eyes for a moment. Carefully thinks of his response because his wallet might suffer if he manages to piss Chinen off.

“The freshman guy I saw you intensely making out on Daiki’s last party?”

Chinen hits him hard on the shoulder, as hard as Chinen hits could ever feel, like a puppy hitting him.

“For one, he’s not a freshman. That’s his brother! He’s a sophomore who goes to the same classes as you, but clearly you don’t know ‘cause you only sleep in class like a damn zombie all the time.”

Yuto swallows the food. “Right. The sophomore. Definitely know his name because it rhymes with photo.”

“It’s Morimoto, Yuto. _Goddammit._ ”

“See? I’m not so lost!”

“Ugh, whatever. The thing is I’m gonna marry him. Spring wedding with sea lavender and dandelion golden colors. Tell your dad I need Chocolate Raspberry Truffle wedding cake by the end of the year with little figurines of us on top: one of him seating on a chair and one of me doing him a lap dance.”

“Jesus.”

“Shush, that’s how I met him.”

“ _Jesus._ ”

“Who doesn’t like my lap dances? Come on, name one person, I dare you.”

“Wait,” Yuto takes a sip of his strawberry juice. This is the sixth time he finds himself choosing strawberry over apple, which used to be is all time favorite juice flavor. Whatever. “Have you ever actually talked to this photo guy—”

“In this economy?”

“—outside of a wild party context and lap dances? Like, I don’t know, asked him for a date?”

Chinen stares at him for a long time. Five seconds to be exact.

“You and Ryosuke are so alike,” Yuto tries not to show any reaction at that. “He said the same thing to me yesterday.”

“Basics of human interaction,” Yuto shrugs. “It’s how society washed our brains and put an established scheme of how to go for a person you like. Be friends. Go dates. Actually date for at least a hundred years before consider the idea of marry them.”

At that, Chinen throws his head back and lets a loud laugh out.

“What?” Yuto asks, mildly amused.

Chinen waves his hand. “Nothing. It’s just—funny you are the one telling me that."

☼

At first, Yuto doesn’t hear it.

He’s still coming out of the dizzy haze of being dead asleep in what was supposed to be a ten-minute power nap, but somehow it turned into a did-I-just-slept-for-a-week nap and his brain is sort doing a push and pull between the idea of regain his full consciousness and the idea of how comfortable is to curl himself tighter into the bed.

Although there’s no music playing on his room, he sleepily dismisses the noise the second time it happens, the part of his brain that’s slowly starting to function again passing it by some kind of night bug that hit against the window, like it has happened many times before. Yuto keeps his eyes closed and sinks deeper, bed-sheets up until the tip of his nose and right when he’s about to fall back at the edge of unconsciousness, the sound comes again.

Is it the door? There’s someone knocking on the door? Dad usually knocks before he comes but he also calls Yuto’s name too.

Yuto opens a tired eye to glance at the door, like if that would help him to check where the noise is coming from, his vision absolutely blinded by the darkness of a room with closed curtains and not a beam of light coming from nowhere. He waits.

But this time, after almost twenty seconds, the tapping sound comes louder again, like if some bird just crashed against his window, Yuto’s head snapping abruptly and startled at it.

What the fuck.

He pulls the sheets back and his bare feet touch the coldness of the wooden floor, sending a small chill into Yuto’s spine. With a full scowl in his face in utterly confusion, he walks towards the window and pulls up the blinds, opening the window to the very top.

Ryosuke's looking up at him, standing on the front yard with a massive smirk playing on his lips that curls something inside Yuto’s chest, looking like the absolutely devil little shit he is.

He prays to Jesus, Buddha, Elvis Presley, _anyone_ , that his bedhead doesn’t look as bad as it feel.

“Were you throwing things at the window, Yamada?”

“Pebbles,” Ryosuke admits with a wide grin. This feels like a deja vu.

“I thought we were past this. Not more broken windows for us, please.”

Ryosuke chuckles and it sounds so nice in contrast with the quietness of the night. “Felt like reviving some good old memories.”

They stare at each other for some seconds, sort of just standing attached to their respective spots and Yuto realizes he’s also smiling silly, to the points he feels it all over his face. Parallel worlds collide, time dust on the sand clock floating still on the air.

“Are you gonna let me in?” Ryosuke asks.

Yuto blinks, snapping out of a dreamy haze. ““So bossy. Wait a sec.”

After tiptoeing his way downstairs and then upstairs, Ryosuke following him close to his room, quietly giggling at Yuto’s failed attempts to be as silent as possible to not wake up his dad or brother, the steps creaking particularly loud.

Every time Yamada steps into his house, Yuto can’t help to think if it’s going to be the last. There are about three more weeks for summer break to be over and the feeling of living with borrowed time makes him be even more selfish with every second they share. He’s not sure what Ryosuke’s intentions are gonna be after high school starts again, if they are going to fall into ignoring or fighting each other every chance they have.

What he’s really sure of it’s that he’ll be absolutely lost if they do, not knowing how is he going to do for his feelings not to show all over the place. Right now, he focuses on the spots where theirs skin touch, seating on the floor still with the lights out, playing video games as Yuto steals some glances and engraves in his memory the way the artificial light of the television seems to pour silver glints on his features and hair, warm space between them not boiling anymore but as warm as stretching your arms into a sunset.

After their sixth round concludes, Yuto raises his arms in victory. “Boom! You got totally roasted.”

Ryosuke elbows him in the ribs. “How the fuck am I supposed to play if you are sending me bombs every five seconds?”

“S’not my fault you are shit at Mario Kart!”

“Fuck you, if we had picked the Maple Treeway track like I fucking told you—”

“What a crybaby. You gotta play on the Rainbow Road to make it real business, Yamada. Go big or go fucking home.”

“Rainbow Road is easy only if you’ve been playing it like a weeb, you know?”

“Please, you are just jealous.”

“Of your non-existent social life?” Ryosuke snorts. “Sure.”

“What did you just say?”

"Nothing. Just that you are a weeb. W-E-E-mphf."

A pillow lands straight on his face because Yuto had reached it from his bed to shut Ryosuke up.

For some seconds, Ryosuke stares at the pillow like it’s actually a bomb that hit him on the face and Yuto can’t help to worry that maybe he overdid it with the playfulness, maybe Ryosuke doesn’t find it funny at all and they’ll be back into square one and he’s going to leave and never talk to Yuto anymore—

An evil spark appears in Ryosuke’s eyes. And before Yuto knows it, he’s up and launching himself with the pillow towards him.

Yuto has time to react and cover himself with his arms but Ryosuke still smacks him with the pillow with such a force that makes him lose balance. In some attempt to defend himself while Ryosuke tries to choke him to death, Yuto manages to stand up, turn on the table lamp on his desk and quickly reach for another pillow, but falls into the bed as Ryosuke is up and launching at him again. It's only when he stumbles and face flat on the sheets that he catches the sound of both of his laughter and heavy breathing.

“You freaking devil, stop trying to kill me!”

“But this is my chance!” Ryosuke quips, grinning. “Come on, old man, you are making this one very easy.”

They are on again but then Ryosuke hits Yuto hard, making him roll on his back to cover gain with his arms.

Yuto lets out a fake cry. “Oh, for fuck sa—Okay, okay, I give up or I swear to God you’ll know from my fucking lawyer.”

The bed shakes a little with how hard Ryosuke laughs. “Let’s do it, I know the law,” Yuto sucks in a breath but Ryosuke doesn’t notice. “I only fear my little sister when it comes to pillow fight, no one else.”

And then he puts the pillow off of Yuto’s face and Yuto looks up and—oh, shit.

Yuto’s brain has to be functioning really slow tonight because it's then again, very late when he sees and realizes what position they are. Yamada on top of him under the dim yellow light of the lamp, both of his legs on Yuto’s sides of his lower stomach, his weight pleasantly warm against his hip and, Jesus, the way Ryosuke looks a bit wrecked, honey hair messy, a cute tint of pink coloring his cheeks and lips half parted, panting heavily is sort of making all Yuto's brain cells crazy running in circles inside his head.

It seems to dawn Ryosuke too, for the way his smile slowly starts to fade and the look on his eyes darken. They are not laughing anymore and this has to be the closest to hypnotizing that Yuto has ever come across to because he can’t, for the love of everything sacred, break his gaze away.

Whenever Ryosuke looks at Yuto, there’s this glint that Ryosuke’s eyes will have sometimes and now, Yuto can see them spreading all over his face, like Yuto is hiding a secret Ryosuke has been searching his whole life and wants it desperately, like he can see it written in Yuto’s eyes, like he holds the answer. Like he’s the answer.

They are close now and Yuto didn’t register when Ryosuke’s head started to get closer and closer, the space between them no longer warm but burning. Steady. Slowly. Sweet honey dripping from his soul. Yuto’s hands are now on Ryosuke’s hips, holding him firm but so delicately, frailness tickling the tip of his fingers and going all the way down his wrist and arms. Yuto is sure by this point Ryosuke can feel the pulse on his veins, echoing through his body like heart beats melting into one single harmony.

Ryosuke also doesn’t take his eyes from Yuto’s not even for a second, his red lips part again and now they are so _so_ close Yuto can see every soft curve of them, warm closeness from the air they are sharing tingling every inch of his skin and they are closer and closer and Yuto is parting his lips too, because they are basically exchanging breathes and everything is so hot, so much, so _close_ —

A knock on the door.

“Yuto?” It's Raiya.

Yuto has never moved so fast in his life. And a single look at Ryosuke, who is now far away from him sitting on the edge of the bed, is enough to tell him he hasn’t either.

Talk about horrible timing.

“Hey, you idiot, I know you are still up ‘cause I can see the light under the door,” Raiya calls again. “Yuto! _Yutoooo_. Come on, I stand here all night if you want,” he sing songs. “Yuto, Yuto, Yuto, Yuto—”

Yuto pinches the bridge of his nose, irritation coming in waves.

“Aren’t you gonna answer him?” Yamada seems very amused. His cheeks are very red. Yuto tries not to guess what that might mean.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him” Yuto says, jumping out from his bed and opening the door with an abrupt movement, revealing an innocent-smiled Raiya. “Fucking _what_.”

“Be a good big brother and lend me your headphon—” Raiya catches behind Yuto’s arm and genuine surprise shows on his face. “Who’s that?”

“Yamada. Now what. Do. You. Want,” Yuto hisses as Ryosuke waves his hand.

“Wait, Yamada? Like, _The_ Yamada?” Raiya says in recognition, stepping inside the room. Yuto can feel a headache coming. “As in “‘ _Beat the shit out of me’_ Yamada?”

Ryosuke laughs out loud. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh my god,” he takes Ryosuke’s hands and shakes them. “Is so nice to meet you. I’m a fan. Did you know when Yuto was little he peed himself the first time he saw Bambi? Like, I know it’s sad but I mean, it’s _Bambi_ —”

“ _Out,_ ” Yuto shoves the headphones to Raiya’s chest. “Or I’m telling dad you were the one who ate the chocolate frosting he was saving for tomorrow’s cupcakes.”

“It was nice to meet you Ryosuke!”

Yuto closes the door in his face and runs his fingers on his hair out of frustration.

Fucking Raiya, fucking timing, fucking Ryosuke for looking so entertained with this whole interaction.

“I like your brother,” he says after pause.

Yuto rolls his eyes. “Of course you like him. You both will be the end of me.”

“Yuto,” Ryosuke says, fond and softly. The smile that he gives him isn’t like the previous ones, it’s quiet, fonder and softer. More knowing. “Not even you believe that.”

☼

The day of Yuto’s birthday comes with a beautiful light blue sky.

It also comes with his dad bursting inside his room holding a small sized birthday cake, eighteen lighted candles squeezed on top with the sentence ‘ _When you are eighteen but you’ll always be dad’s little boy_ ’ written with royal icing and a baby Yoda edible image printed below, Raiya following behind taking photos at Yuto’s spectacular bedhead and drowsy face, both of them singing happy birthday very off-key.

His phone also lights up all morning. While he’s eating breakfast, he receives a video of Daiki, Inoo and Takaki singing happy birthday in every genre they can, Takaki making the background vocals, his voice so pretty it takes Yuto by surprise. Yabu sends him an image of Voldemort and Yuto is about to text why did he send that but then Yabu sends “Happy Birthday. I nose it will be good,” that has Yuto staring deadpanned at his screen for ten seconds. Hikaru’s call comes a bit after that, screaming loudly through the phone and Chinen makes him promise to get wasted someday via voice message.

Keito comes home a bit after Yuto showered and they kill the daylight hours smashing each other playing video games and finishing the third season of My Hero Academia eating birthday cake. They eat until they physically can’t and Yuto finds himself laughing so much when Keito’s character self-shoots in the final round, and unexpectedly, it’s the most steady and peaceful Yuto had felt in a long time. Very different of the mess that was last year.

Yuto’s phone suddenly vibrates behind the throw pillows.

**Ryosuke:**

i have a theory

Yuto opens the chat window even before questioning to reply.

**Yuto:**

i’m sure is life-changing

**Ryosuke:**

birthdays mean that we get older

but actually, we grow older every day

every passing second

so what’s even the point of birthday

**Yuto:**

you get free cake

**Ryosuke:**

well

there goes my theory

crushed to the grown by your genius argument

**Yuto:**

are you this ridiculous with everyone?

**Ryosuke:**

you get special treatment

**Yuto:**

omg

you are ridiculous

**Ryosuke:**

happy birthday

The _texting_ is still showing. Then it disappears. Then appears again.

**Ryosuke:**

loser

Though Yuto is getting the hang of keep his feeling well-hidden, there are some moments, just like this one, that they are too much and they escape from everywhere, red, pink, orange and yellow lights sneaking their way out through Yuto’s chest, spreading all over the place.

Yuto doesn’t realizes he’s smiling wide until he catches from his peripheral vision how there’s a teasing smile on the corner of Keito’s mouth.

“What,” Yuto asks, heat creeping up his ears.

Keito smiles innocently. “Nothing.”

“Right, “Yuto’s gaze falls to the phone screen again, cheeks flushed in pink now. “Shut up.”

Keito does laugh this time. Luckily, he’s too busy to dodge the throw pillow Yuto throws at him square on the face.

☼

What surprise Yuto the most when they arrive to The _Otokogumi_ Rock House is not how packed the bar is, because since the very day Keito’s dad opened his business, this place has been one of the most popular places in town to hang out. This is the first time Yuto is allowed in here legally and with the permission of his own father and Keito’s dad's, so when Mr. Okamoto jumps out of nowhere to greet him and hug him even tighter than his dad had done in the morning, Yuto holds on tight to him too.

What he wasn’t expecting at all was to see one of the largest table in a corner completely full of people Yuto _does_ know, looking at him with expectant smiles on their faces.

“My baby!” Yabu is the first one to stand up of his seat to hug Yuto, face still frozen in astonishment. “Well, not anymore, because you are so big now! Happy birthday!”

“Thanks” Yuto says a bit lost, Keito next to him not looking surprised at all. “I didn’t expect, huh, this.”

“All this years and you really thought we wouldn’t celebrate your birthday?” Inoo scoffs, an arm around Daiki’s shoulders.

“Yuto do you feel old? You are so old,” Chinen comments.

“We were thinking about ordering a round of beer but we wanted to wait until you arrive, you can order some other thing if you’d like,” Takaki says gently.

Yuto shakes his head smiling, taking a seat besides Hikaru. “I’m good with that.”

It’s also not a surprise that his eyes lands immediately on someone he really wasn’t expecting to see today and Yuto can’t help but think this is the first time he celebrates his birthday with Ryosuke seating there, right in front of him.

“Hello, stranger” Ryosuke says and damn Yuto’s heart for racing so fast. Ryosuke looks particularly beautiful under the dim orange lights of the bar.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Yuto smirks softly. “Thought birthdays weren’t worth celebrating?”

Ryosuke throws his head back and laughs. It’s amazing how things get narrowed to the just the two of them, even though they are in a table surrounded by lots of people. 

“It’s the free cake,” Ryosuke states.

Oh god. Yuto is so _gone_ for this boy.

When the beers arrive, Daiki hits the table with his tiny hand. “Alright, losers! Birthdays are nothing without a good round of Truth or Dare!”

And so, they start. The first one to choose truth or dare is Yabu, who choses Truth.

“What has been the most embarrassing moment of your life till today?” Takaki asks.

Yabu groans. “Oh god, it was in ninth grade—”

Hikaru and Keito bursts into laughs. Inoo chimes in immediately, with panic. “You promised, _we_ promised, we even made a blood pact about never ever talk about that again!”

“This is Yuto’s birthday, shouldn’t we be telling embarrassing stories about him, instead?” Hikaru says. “Because this one it’s only humiliating for some of us, definitely not for him.”

Chinen waves his hand at him. “No, shut up, I want to know!”

“Yeah, me too,” Ryosuke says. “We can always go through Yuto’s embarrassing stories after this,” he grins and Yuto sticks his tongue out to him.

“So, you know we’ve known each other since middle school, right?” Yabu starts. “Back then, almost at the end of middle school we had the idea of creating a rock band. Inoo played the piano, Keito and I the guitars, Hika on the bass and Yuto would play the drums—”

“You _what,_ ” Ryosuke cuts the story almost sharply, eyes wide at Yuto. It sort of looks like he’s almost offended about not knowing that. "You play the drums?"

“Huh,” Yuto doesn’t know how to approach Yamada’s sudden surprise. “Yeah, I used to play a lot in middle school.”

“You still do, sometimes I can hear you going hard on it from my house even with my windows closed. It's freaking annoying, man.” Keito argues.

“He’s a beast when he wants to show off,” Yabu agrees. “Anyways, we were so excited to start our new band and we were so sure we’d make it big and jump immediately right into the rock fame. We only had to wait until there was a chance enough to prove ourselves. And we had it in our last middle school year.”

“Oh god,” Hikaru groans, remembering.

“There was a talent show at the end of the semester and we said, hey maybe this could be our moment and—I swear to God we had not had any real rehearsal 'cause we were stupid and though it would all come together when we stood up in the stage.”

“We were the last ones to perform,” Keito says, arms folded. “After a very long succession of epic failures.”

“Not all of them," Inoo argues. "I liked the kid who did armpit farts to the tune of “My Heart Will Go On."

“The hell did he managed to do the last part of the song?”

“Well, he actually—”

“Anyways,” Yabu goes on. “Final presentation. It goes as an understatement that we were nervous as fuck. And when we finally went up on stage, we realized neither of us had agreed on which song we were even gonna play.”

Takaki cringes and Chinen looks like he’s about to spill his beer.

“It was a nightmare,” Hikaru’s face is pure horror. “Fuck, I still have nightmares of that and they are ten time worst of the ones where I’m not wearing any pants.”

Yabu takes a sip of his beer and continues. “But then Yuto, good Yuto. He started to play his own rhythm with the drums and he was so fucking awesome! Arms hitting every beat like a mad man, it was almost like watching a Phil Collins solo.”

“That’s ‘because it was one of his solos, you idiot,” Yuto laughs.

“People roared in applause and we were all just there, staring like fools at Yuto. I honestly didn’t know you could play like that until that moment.” Hikaru says

“We won The Spontaneous Act and Worst Act awards at the same time just because of Yuto, how cool is that?” Inoo adds and raises his beer. “Cheers for the natural rockstar.”

They all drink and then it the game goes on. Keito is dared to not break any single glass until the night ended (something anyone would say it was not a dare at all, until two hours later, when they all stood up to sing happy birthday and accidentally knocked Daiki’s empty glass and the thing shattered into pieces). Then, Hikaru got dared to only speak in falsettos, something that they quickly dismissed after five minutes in the game. Ryosuke chosen truth and Hikaru asked him to describe what was his “ideal type”. It all went swimmingly, Yuto trying not to look interested and super dejected about the fact that Yamada would probably describe some cute girl stereotype, but he had to physically restrain himself from spilling his beer when he heard the word _he_ and _guy_ at the end of the adjectives caring and funny and passionate. Actually, he had to fake a cough because okay, yeah. His crush was also into boy. It was fine. Cool. Great. Super great. It doesn’t mean he was ever going to notice Yuto, because. You know. Mortal enemies and all that jazz.

Yuto had taken a long, long sip of his beer and stared at the wall in front of him, impossibly miserable.

Chinen is dared to approach a stranger and make them buy him a drink, whatever it takes him to do it but without telling them the truth. Chinen doesn’t even protest and he just stands up, wearing confidence like a second skin as he walks to the bar stool and talks to some random guy. It’s not even a thirty seconds when the guy calls the bartender and asks for a drink, giving it to Chinen without a second thought. He returns to the table with a content smirk.

“How did you do that?” Hikaru says, horrified expression on his face. “That was even less than two minutes!”

Chinen shrugs as he takes a sip of his piña colada. “I’m just that good.”

Then, it’s Yuto’s turn.

“Okay, dear Yutti,” Chinen says when he chooses dare because hell, he was not going to make a fool of himself confessing something embarrassing in front of Ryosuke. “I dare you to go up the stage and play something in the drums. Not some aleatory beat but an actual song, a full song.”

“You know I need at least a guitar to actually make a melody, right?”

“So it’s a good thing you have two guitarist friends here,” Chinen says, looking at Yabu and Keito. “You can ask either of them.”

Yuto stops to think about it for a couple of minutes. The band that Mr. Okamoto always hires to play every night is in the middle of a song, but the feeling of not being anxious about doing it might have to do with the fact that this is something he actually thinks he could do well. He knows he’s good with the drums, even Keito had suggested him once about the possibility of choosing a major related with music but Yuto never had the same sparkle about it as he has for photography. He only likes it and he’s good at it. There’s really nothing to lose here.

Also, Ryosuke has been flicking his eyes every five seconds at him, a glint of expectations of his eyes.

“Okay,” he puts his hand on Keito’s shoulder. “Let’s do this, my friend.”

“Why me?!” Keito whines

“Payback for the time you left me alone in that beer pong game, bitch. Now shut up and get your ass on stage.”

Keito rolls his eyes but does stands up.

When they get to the small stage, they wait until the band is over with their song. Keito approaches to the vocalist to whisper him about all the relevant information. He nods with a kind smile and they go off stage. It’s only then when it dawns Yuto he still hasn’t chosen a song.

“Wait,” Yuto says. “Maybe we’ll need a bass for this one.”

“Should I call Hika?” Keito arcs an eyebrow.

But Yuto shakes his head. “Hika’s pulse is shit when he drinks. Maybe you can ask the bassist of the band?”

Keito furrows his eyebrow. “Dude. What are you planning to play?”

Okay. Here comes the embarrassing part. “So, um—do you remember when we were sixteen and had this massive crush on Ryan Adams and made sure to learn every single song of his?”

“Oh, yeah. Smart choice,” Keito agrees, but Yuto has his eyes still not fixed on him. “Which one then?”

“A cover,” Yuto swallows. “One of his covers.”

“Dude, you gotta be more specific. This guys has like, three hundred ninety-nine covers—”

Why is this so _hard._

“Huh,” Yuto clears his throat, still not looking at Keito. “...the Taylor Swift ones?

Keito blinks once. Twice.

Then he puts an hand on Yuto's shoulder, heavy.

“My friend,” he says severe, like he's telling Yuto he has a terminal illness. “You are so fucking whipped.”

Well. If that isn’t the understatement of the summer.

☼

The band bassist’s name is Suda Masaki and he has an intimidating expression that kind of throws off Yuto, but then he talks to Keito and he breaks into the widest smile ever, enthusiastically nodding at their favor. Keito agrees on singing the song and then Yuto is sitting on the barstool behind the drums, taking a pair of drumsticks with his long fingers. People on the bar gradually become more silent when they see new faces on stage and from where he’s sitting, Yuto can see his dad and Keito’s on a corner, both smiling and doing thumbs up at them.

Keito takes the mic on the center. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen and—weirdos over there” he looks at their friends table. Our intention isn’t to disturb your peaceful night but my best friend over here, our birthday boy, Yuto,” Keito gestures towards him and Yuto’s cheeks redden a bit. “Has just lost a bet, which means this song will be a slightly more different than the usual program.”

“Do it for the vine!” Daiki calls out, recording them with his phone.

Keito chuckles. “So, you can either sit here and pretend you enjoy it or might as well take a bathroom break, promise this won’t take long,” Keito turns to Yuto and smiles. “Whenever you are ready, buddy.”

Yuto nods. He makes eye contact with Suda and he seems to understand his cue.

_Here goes nothing_ , Yuto thinks before he starts playing.

His drums and the bass melody start at the same time, without the sound of the guitar. Then, Keito plays the first chords and then begins to sing, his gentle voice blending perfectly with the rhythm. Every time Yuto hits the cymbals and toms he feels like he’s given the power to create another beat aside from the one of his own heart, almost like an extension of it. He loves it so much, bass drum echo vibrating to his very core, even if the song it’s not one that requires much of his intervention. But it does feel solid under his skin.

There’s a reason why he chose this song and it’s so much more than what Keito might think this is about.

Two summers ago, curled up in his bed in the middle of the midnight hours, Yuto was navigating through his Spotify weekly recommendation list when he stumbled upon this song, _All You Had To Do Was Stay,_ sang by Ryan Adams. Then he listened to it again that night, and then again until he fell asleep and the next day, he played it while he was showering, and then when he was in the car with his dad and then he listened to it in the way back home from school, in the bus, on his way to the grocery shop, in the nights he couldn’t fell asleep, insomnia already developing in that incontrolable monster that would hunt him years after.

It was on the way the melody and lyrics spoke a thousand things to him, heartbreaking words that resembled the way the hole in his chest became deeper and deeper with every time his mom didn’t call, or when she did and it would always end up with her disappointed ice-cold voice at the end. In the many times Yuto tried so hard for her that he started to forget who he really was, just to please her but her expectations never meeting his own dreams half way. Whenever he cried himself to sleep with a scream ripping out his throat to go out and tell her _all you had to do was stay_ , _stay, stay,_ stay and accept me, stay and love me for the person I am, for the person I want to become—he’d put on his headphones and turned the volume at maximum and would let the song ache until he was tired of trying so fucking hard.

One summer ago, Yuto told his mother he was gay. She told him there was something wrong with him and Yuto stopped trying. He also stopped listening to that song.

Then, this summer, when he was about to reach Ryosuke’s house for one of their tutoring sessions, he heard it again from the street, coming through the open window of Ryosuke’s room. But it wasn’t the same song, it was more catchy, upbeat rhythm sang by a female voice that Yuto knew very well because he used to tease and mock Yamada for listening to her. In his room, Ryosuke was singing along with the song in the way you can only sing when you know you are alone and no one is going to hear you. But Yuto did.

He never said a word to Ryosuke about hearing him sing, mostly because there was no way he did without the desperate feeling of wanting to say how everything about that song was like a knife in an open wound for him.

But now, even when he’s playing the song, it’s only the memories of hearing Ryosuke singing this song what appears on his head.

He doesn’t need to focus too much on his movements because he basically knows this song by muscle memory, so he has no problem to let his eyes roam across the bar, gaze landing on Ryosuke like a compass needle pointing to its north. He's sitting between Chinen and Hikaru, staring back at Yuto with an intensity that could easily light up the whole place on fire, but there’s also something more under it. A strange sparkle that Yuto can’t read, almost curious, deep in a way that Yuto can’t hold his gaze much longer, so he decides to focus on hitting the drums with precision, butterflies flying inside his body.

The final note is meet at the same time as everyone’s fervent applause and even some wolf-whistles coming from some tables. It’s a blur of voices after that, hands palming his back when he goes off stage, people showering both of them in compliments about how cool their performance was, his dad pulling him in a warm and tight hug and then his friends making a cheers for them, truth or dare game long forgotten. And it’s when he’s finally sitting again that he dares to look at Ryosuke, kind of expecting him to be talking to Chinen or to someone else.

Only that he hasn’t. He's still staring at Yuto. The look on his eyes hasn’t change one bit, if not the shining growing even more deeper now that he’s close enough to admire them. The back of his neck tingles so much with the need to look away but he sucks in a breath and ignores. They staring at each other until Yabu has to call Ryosuke’s name three times to get his attention. Probably for the best, Yuto thinks after a while, now refusing to meet Ryosuke’s eyes for the rest of the night. Because for a brief second hope set like a red sunset on his chest and almost made him believe he had found behind his eyes the same burning he has been longing for some time.

☼

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

Ryosuke’s voice makes Yuto snap out of his thoughts. Almost an hour has passed since they performed and the rest are engrossed in their own conversations, Daiki explaining the detailed process of producing a songs to Takaki and Hikaru, Chinen and Inoo at the bar trying some drinks, Yabu and Keito talking to Yuto’s dad in a separated table about things Yuto can’t hear from where he’s sitting.

It throws Yuto off a bit but he nods, slowly.

They wind their way out of the bar without saying a word to anyone. Outside there’s an unexpected coldness in the air, a small reminder that summer has to end at some point. They walk down a few streets, until a thought strikes Yuto’s mind.

Yuto smiles. "This feels like a deja vu.”

“How come?” Ryosuke asks.

“Like the day before summer break started, when you came to our lunch table and asked to talk,” he remembers.

“Yeah,” Ryosuke cringes a bit at the memory. “I wasn’t the nicest to you back then.”

“S’fine, I know I deserved it,” Yuto shrugs. “What did you want to talk about? Hope not to tell me how beautiful the night is or some shit like that.”

Ryosuke rolls his eyes. “Says the sap that brought me to a viewpoint to watch the sunset,” Yuto flushes and Ryosuke laughs merciless. “Sorry, I actually really liked it. Kind of want to go back some other time.”

“We can,” Yuto says a bit to eagerly. “I mean—you can, sure. You can go whenever you want. Um. Or maybe you’d like to go with Chinen? Takaki? Not me, of course, I didn’t mean I had to—huh, I’m not talking about me,” Yuto swallows. “At all.”

Ryosuke smiles again, fondly. “You are so dumb.”

“Then you are dumber.”

Yuto is expecting Ryosuke to follow the bickering, but he only digs is hands on the pockets of his ripped jeans and lowers his gaze, face not amused anymore. He seems hesitant, like he doesn’t know how to put into words what he wants to say.

Yuto knows better though, so he waits until Yamada gathers his thoughts.

“I got you something,” Ryosuke kicks a pebble on the ground with his red converses, not meeting Yuto’s shocked eyes.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I already did, though,” Ryosuke searches on the chest pocket of his plaid navy-blue shirt, and takes a tiny package out of it. The vending machine artificial light that’s next to them reflects on Ryosuke making him shine in silver and blue shades. Yuto stares at the package on Yuto’s hand like it’s an alien.

“But,” he tries again. Trust his brain to short circuit right on this moment. “But you—”

“Yuto,” Ryosuke says again. “Take the damn thing or I’ll throw it at your face.”

Yuto takes the package almost violently, Ryosuke smile playing on his lips. He takes what’s inside out.

In his hand is now a sun-shaped keychain, filled with tiny red, yellow and orange crystals that sparkle intensely under the vending machine light.

“Wow,” he plays with the shiny key-chain between his fingers, pleasant surprise spreading through his body. “It’s so pretty. Thank you.”

It comes out so genuine and soft, Yuto is afraid for a moment he might have revealed too much, exposed his feeling too much. But Ryosuke doesn’t seem to notice.

“I saw it the other day, when I was walking home after practice. I don’t know why but, huh, it reminded me of you so. Yeah,” Ryosuke clears his throat. “Since you’ve always liked to photograph sunsets on the beach, I thought you could, I don’t know, attach it to your camera or your camera bag—”

“What,” Yuto cuts him. Ryosuke looks confused. “What did you say?”

“Huh,” Ryosuke blinks. “That you can attach it to your ca—”

“No, not that. The sunset thing,” Yuto specifies and his heart goes racing for some reason. “You said I’ve always liked photographing sunsets on the beach,” he says. “I never told you that.”

Ryosuke’s mouth hangs open and his eyes go wide. Yuto has talked about lots of things with him by now but he’s sure, like, three hundred percent sure that’s something he has never told anyone. Not that is a secret he doesn’t want anyone to know or that he’s ashamed of it or something like that, but Yuto’s escapades to the beach to photograph the ocean and the sand and the people passing and the different shades of the sunsets were something he did in absolutely loneliness. Almost like a therapy to get his mind out of the troubling mess with his mother.

It was in middle school, Yuto hadn’t even met Ryosuke back then, how did he know?

“I—,” Ryosuke says but then he closes his mouth, out of words. His face is so red Yuto can see it even in the dark blue haze of the night. “'Cause I—"

_“Yuto?”_ a female voice calls behind him.

His heart. His heart is not in its place anymore because it falls to the ground and shatters in million pieces, just like a glass crashing on the floor.

What is she doing here, _what is she doing here._

Ryosuke glances over Yuto’s shoulder. Looks back at Yuto, and Yuto doesn’t know what expression he has right now but it must not be a good one because Ryosuke grabs him gently by the arm, face filled with worry.

He can’t let Ryosuke worry. This can’t be happening here.

Won’t happen here.

Yuto turns around. Breathes.

“Mom,” Yuto says, voice devoid of emotion. Ryosuke’s eyes widen.

She’s dressed in a full suit, which means she either came straight from work or is going to it. Fun fact: Yuto doesn’t remember her in other clothe that’s not a suit. 

“Yuto, what in the world are you doing here,” she gravely asks. “This is not a place for someone like you.”

Yuto ignores her. “How did you find me?”

“Raiya told me,” she answers. Yuto doesn’t get mad at his brother because he knows Raiya must had been as delighted as Yuto is to suddenly see her after months and months of absence. “I went to your house and he told me,” she says. Yuto wants to roll his eyes, like hell Raiya would had gave in with her so easily. But Yuto knows better and the fact she looks really pissed off probably means Raiya didn’t make her things very easy.

Yuto smiles bitterly. “It was your house once, too.”

But she doesn’t listen. “I take time from my busy agenda to come and greet my son for his birthday and I find out he’s out there in a pub—”

“—you know it’s Keito’s dad—”

“—doing who knows what, drinking without any permission, like an alcoholic—”

“ _Stop,”_ Yuto hisses. “Go.”

“What?” his mom says in shock.

“Go. Go to whatever meeting you need to attend. You had a good parenting system going in your favor ‘cause you didn’t have to deal with me, so don’t make any more time from your agenda for me. It won’t be necessary anymore, I’m done with this,” he starts to walk to the pub. “Let’s go, Ryosuke.”

Ryosuke follows him without asking, very close next to him. They are about to pass her when she says something that cuts Yuto like ice.

“Is this your _boyfriend_?”

And she says the word with so much disgust and venom, it’s like a punch on the stomach. Fuck it, a punch on the stomach now wouldn’t be so terrible compared to this.

Yuto can’t respond, like, he really can’t. His mouth is dry and his voice is lost somewhere. Besides him Ryosuke seems as frozen as he is.

“Is this why you’ve been failing your exams, is this why you are being like this?”

Something snaps inside Yuto. The worst of all is that is not sadness anymore or ever the bitter feeling of not meeting her expectations. Because right in this moment, and in all the previous days, weeks, moths, _years_ of crying himself to sleep because mom was never home, because meetings were more important than birthdays, because what was even the point of trying if Yuto didn’t have good grades, because he was gay and she thought, she believe there must be something wrong with him— because all of that, right now, Yuto understands that the only one who has never met _his_ expectations of the person who’s supposed to be the one who protects you, loves you and accepts you no matter what, was _her._

“Yeah,” he says. “There you go mom. The exact reasons why I’m such an incredible fuck up”

“Don’t use those words when you are talking to me.”

But this time Yuto won’t have it.

He’s so angry he’s shaking from head to toe. “I’m gay. I like photography. I suck at all the subject that, according to you could led me to do something worth of mention in my life, so hey, I guess also failing in life, right? Might just give up and end your endless suffering of having such a disappointment of a son.”

Her voice quivers for a second. “That’s not what I meant—”

Yuto laughs and it literally hurt inside. “No, mom. I totally get what you mean. I always do,” he says.

“I just care about your future, Yuto,” she insist. “Every parent wants to make sure their sons make the right choice. That they don’t make stupid mistakes and build castles on clouds. Doesn’t that make _sense_ to you?”

Yuto breathes in. Let’s the adrenaline die in his veins. Concentrates in the sky above him, in the sound of the summer night around them, in the heat of Ryosuke’s frozen body besides him. He breathes out.

“The only thing that doesn’t make sense is how horrible your way of wanting the best for me is.”

When he was fourteen and his parents fought every night, Yuto would put on his headphones and turn the volume to the maximum. He thought if he didn’t hear them yelling at each other, if he didn’t directly witness how what once was love agonized in the room next to his, it’d disappear. Not exist. Couldn’t hurt if he didn’t listen.

So that’s what he tries to imagine now. Imaginary headphones around his ears muting the way his mother calls after him when he passes next to her without even giving her a last glance.

There’s suddenly a tug on his hand. Yuto didn’t realize at what point he had taken Ryosuke had taken his hand.

But Ryosuke stops in his tracks, turns around and faces the woman, his hand never leaving Yuto’s hand.

“His dreams are not a mistake,” Yamada says. Voice as cold as winter ice. “But your way of showing you care probably is.”

He turns around and starts walking again.

Yuto follows him right close enough for their shoulders to touch.

☼

They walk and walk and keep walking until they reach the back gate of the bar. The streets are painted with the colors of the neon lights of the building and fortunately, there’s no one in sight. It’s when they stop in an alley besides the bar when Yuto notices how he has been gripping the keychain on his left hand so hard there are little bruises all over his palm. Ryosuke abruptly stops holding Yuto's other hand and he has to repress the need to take it again.

“Hey,” Yuto calls Ryosuke. “Ryosuke—hey!”

“I’m sorry,” his voice is shaking and when Yuto grabs him by the arms, he notices how his body is shaking too. “I’m just—God, I’m so sorry, but I was so fucking _angry_.”

“It’s fine—hear me out, it’s fine, okay?” Yuto reassures him. It’s dark, even if the neon lights of the bar signs are enough to catch the troubled expression on Ryosuke’s face, it still give the sensation of being stepping with your eyes closed.

“I don’t regret what I said,” Yamada says. It almost overwhelming the sense of relief that washes over Yuto.

Ryosuke can’t seem to be standing calm in his place, pacing a bit, fidgeting in his own spot.

Then he says. “How can she talk to you like that? It’s—it’s like she doesn’t even have faith on you—”

“That’s because she doesn’t,” Yuto says. “I’m literally the version of what she doesn’t want in a son.”

“But she doesn’t—why can’t she see?” Ryosuke looks so troubled. “You’ve worked your ass of this summer studying and helping your dad at the bakery, making you feel like you are doing everything wrong when she’s the one at wrong,” he runs his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “And you are caring and funny and so passionate about the things you like to do, her priorities should be focused on that, why can’t she _see_ that?”

To fantasize with Ryosuke showering him with compliments is one thing. Another very _very_ different thing is actually having Ryosuke Yamada in front of him showering him with compliments.

“You don’t—huh, you don’t need to say all this things.”

“What are you talking about? I absolutely need to,” Ryosuke stops in front of him but it’s so much close than what they use to be. Or maybe it’s the fire that’s vibrating through him, like he really needs Yuto to believe in his words.

“No, come on. This is—” Yuto recognizes this feeling, the small panic growing on his chest whenever Ryosuke does this thing that makes Yuto want to believe there could be, there could be a small chance. That Ryosuke might be on the same page like him.

“You are smart,” Ryosuke continues. “And you are good. So fucking good and talented and hard working—"

“Stop,” Yuto says, getting flustered. “You should be saying something like—like…”

“Like what?” Ryosuke asks, challenging. “Like it’s not true?”

They stare at each other, but Ryosuke doesn’t look frustrated anymore, but the look on his face has become dark and determinate, like if he’s daring Yuto to say something, to finish that phrase, to shatter this and tell him about how they didn’t use to be like this, how this wasn’t supposed to be happening between them, and Yuto feels small, incredibly small under his gaze, but not in a defenseless way. Ryosuke's in front of him, a waiting in his eyes, almost as if he's about to punch Yuto but at the same time it's ten times more inviting, the vulnerability breaking whatever insecurity might be surrounding his head. 

But Yuto doesn’t get the chance to connect the dots inside what this boiling space between them might mean, because in the next second, the only thing he knows is that Ryosuke leans in, puts his feather hands around Yuto’s neck and brings them together, lips colliding like burning planets.

He’s kissing him.

A kiss.

This is a kiss.

Ryosuke Yamada is kissing him.

_What._

Everything in the world shuts down for Yuto and the only thing real is the sensation of having Ryosuke’s lips kissing him with such an intensity it’s making it hard for Yuto to not believe they are a force of nature on their own. There’s also shock somewhere inside his head, but it’s quickly being replaced for a feeling almost as strong and furious like the way Ryosuke is kissing him—

_(Ryosuke is kissing him)_

—he kisses back.

And it’s the easiest decision of all he’s made in his life, because why in the would wouldn’t he want to kiss him? So, that’s exactly what he tries to tell him in the press of their lips, in the way they desperately move, as if this is the only chance they’ll get to be like this instead of all the years of bantering and fighting back and forth—Yuto kisses him with every fiber of his soul, and shows him how perfect their mouths fit, like two puzzles pieces that got lost in the drift of misunderstandings. They press against each other, and this was the way how things were supposed to be between the two of them, the sweet honey taste inside Ryosuke’s mouth, his tongue running across Yuto’s lower lip and catching it between his lips just so he can get inside closer and closer, like this is his new way to shut Yuto up and it feels so fucking good to have him clinging from his neck Yuto’s knees getting weaker as his mind tries to decide if this is something incredibly hot or adorably cute—

“They are not here either.”

Ryosuke and Yuto freeze. Everything in the world freezes.

Hikaru’s voice is coming from the entrance but because Ryosuke and Yuto are hidden behind the wall of the passage, he can’t see them. Yuto’s brains starts functioning again and the idea that Hikaru might call to their cellphones and catch them like this lights up in his head like a siren alarm.

They can’t seem to break eye contact, neither of them even breathing. Ryosuke has a beautiful shade of red on his cheeks and his lips looks swollen, a bit wet and shiny under the artificial lights.

And then, Ryosuke is slowly stepping away from him and Yuto’s whole existence shouts _No, wait!_ As the breeze blows in the wide gap there’s between them. He opens his mouth to say something but no words come out. It doesn’t matter anyways, because Ryosuke already on full sight, walking towards Hikaru.

“Oh, there you are—and Yuto? What the hell were the two of you doing there?” Hikaru asks confused.

Ryosuke’s laugh makes Yuto snap his eyes to him. “We were about to go inside but we heard you so he hid, see how long it’d take you to find us.”

Hikaru narrows his eyes. Looks between Ryosuke and Yuto. There’s a deafening pulse drilling holes in Yuto’s head and his heart is being so fucking loud because Hikaru is going to find out, there’s no way he doesn’t know—

“You weren’t trying to kill each other back there, weren’t you?”

Yuto feels the physical need to facepalm. Bless Hikaru.

“I’d have succeeded by now, don’t you think,” Ryosuke passes next to him and opens the bar gate. Hikaru enters first and Ryosuke waits for Yuto to enter too, holding the door for him.

He should say something. Yuto should say something now. This is the only moment he should force himself to act like a human being and face reality.

But then, they hear a glass breaking somewhere inside, followed by Daiki's shout _KEITO, I FUCKING TOLD YOU,_ and panic raises again, his mouth goes very dry. Words get stuck in his throat.

“We should go inside,” Ryosuke mumbles, not looking at him. “Before anyone else notices.”

Then, he enters, leaving the door open.

The key-chain is still in Yuto’s hand and it weights like a thousand stones.

☼

There are some days before he has tutoring with Ryosuke. Although, the days that are supposedly filled with tons of texts messages, midnight calls, Yamada randomly throwing pebbles at his window just—don’t come. It all goes quiet, and again, everything is silent inside Yuto.

It’s not a silence he welcomes, because it’s one that demands to be filled. A hole in his chest that pulls him down, so big that it drowns him at sleepless nights. He still tastes Ryosuke's kiss and the scene repeats all over again in his mind, stubbornly stuck like an EDM song that pops up in the most random moments, only that every second without Ryosuke has become now a very not-fun one. An empty one.

After they returned to the bar, Yuto realized the world kept spinning in the minutes they were out. He tried to shake the feelings away, something he partially achieved when Keito gifted him new black drumsticks that had his name engraved on them, or when Dad pulled out a giant Star Wars themed cake or when they were all around him, singing happy birthday, candles lighting up in front of his face in an orange glow that made everything look so close and warm, but he just couldn’t help to flick his eyes to Ryosuke’s, trading sneaky glances and unspoken words. Not even when everyone parted ways and Yamada just offered him a smile that didn’t quite reached his eyes.

They have one more tutoring before and it has Yuto on edge the whole time. Ryosuke offers him a polite smile and they go through the exercises without much of a problem but the silences shouts in Yuto's hears he can't process half of the things he's writing. Neither of them bring up the kiss. But when Yuto is on the doorway, Ryosuke suddenly says he won’t be able to tutor Yuto for two weeks because he’s going to his grandma’s house. Yuto nods, waves a goodbye and pretends that not seeing Ryosuke when they are like this doesn’t make him feel sick.

Biking his way up home, Yuto remembers how it felt the last time he liked someone. It was a mess, because it was also the first time he understood he was into boys and he was scared. Insecure. One hundred percent sure there was something wrong with him, an opinion animatedly agreed by his mother. But it was when he came out to his dad that he learnt about not being afraid of being aware of all the love that could surround him, to recognize it like it’s the most natural thing. Loving was hard in that time but now it feels so easy with Ryosuke.

It's almost natural. As if it should have been always like this, because, _of course_ he would be crazy about Ryosuke. How couldn't he?

_Love?_

Yuto closes the door of his room and throws himself on the bed, putting a pillow against his head.

Of course.

Of course he’s realizing he’s in fucking love with Ryosuke just when he’s probably never ever going to say a word to him again.

☼

"This I am telling you, and I want you to hear my words very carefully, my dear sweet summer child,” Daiki starts before he swallows a grossly amount of popcorn. “Love is the best thing in the world. But then—is the fucking _worst_ thing in the world.”

Inoo raises an eyebrow. “Where in the world did you come up with that?”

Daiki blinks at his boyfriend. “The Mexican _telenovela_ I’m watching with Yuya and Keito that I talked you about,” Inoo blinks back and doesn’t look less confused. Daiki sighs. “See Yuto? Love is the worst, he doesn’t even listen to me when I tell him things. But thanks to prove my point dear, you are the best.”

Yuto looks at them, practically squished between the two of them on Inoo’s couch. This is the third time they are watching _Mamma Mia!_ and Yuto thinks if he hears Meryl Streep sing Dancing Queen one more time he’s going to lose it. There’s a huge bowl of popcorn that has been disappearing considerably fast since Daiki is the one holding it.

It’s not a warm day even though it’s late August. There’s a chill air outside that reminds Yuto of early autumn and it filters through the house, so they are also snuggled under a fluffy Hello Kitty blanket that Inoo said had for, as he said, "emergencies."

Daiki continues his rant. “Like, just think about it for a moment. You meet someone and then you notice ‘oh, they have pretty eyes,’ and then ‘oh, he has a pretty smile,’ and then ‘ _oooh,_ I could listen to him cry about YouTube videos of kittens the whole day!” Daiki plops a leg over Yuto’s lap and then hits the couch arm. “And then bang! They are your whole fucking universe.”

“But the worst thing is that you don’t even have a say in who do you fall in love with,” Inoo adds. “You don't even have to be similar.”

“Yeah! I mean look at us.”

“Right. You know how I like silence and _then_ there’s this loud specimen next to me that doesn’t know what a minute of peace is.”

“But do we love each other?”

“Hell yes.”

“Do we make out every five seconds?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Some of us are single here, please,” Yuto scrunches his nose.

“Not for too long, I hope,” Inoo pats him on the head. “You guys already kissed, I cannot even begin to explain you how long it to took _us_ to hold hands.”

Yuto takes the popcorn Daiki was about to eat. “But it’s not the same. He kissed me out of nowhere, he was fucking pissed and then suddenly we were making out outside the bar and then—” Daiki is about to snatch the popcorn from Yuto’s hand but Yuto eats it and swallows it in one go, “—he doesn’t talk to me, acts like nothing happened. What the fuck am I supposed to get out of that? That he likes me too?”

“Has the possibility of Ryosuke being as lost as you are ever crossed your mind?”

“Yeah, sure but. Like. Out of the two of us, he’s always the one knows clearly what all this is about.”

“And what is this about?”

“Well—for one, he doesn’t even like me, that’s for sure. Since the very first day we met. Also, he didn’t even want to tutor me in the beginning, and he’s—he’s so sure of himself, it just doesn’t make sense because he doesn’t lo—like the way I like him.”

“Oh yeah, because absolutely despises you. Especially when he goes to your house to play games.”

“Or when they are texting each other and have this faces that makes you think their brains melted.”

“And I bet he hated every second of the marathon of Star Wars you both did.”

That’s… that’s not something Yuto knew. “He liked it?”

“Oh yeah, we couldn’t find the way to shut him up. Chinen had to hide his Star Wars movies whenever we had movie nights.”

This is so much information Yuto doesn’t even know where to begin processing it. His head is trying to separate the things he’s sure about Ryosuke and the things he doesn’t know a thing about, that particularly pile getting overwhelmingly bigger and bigger every passing minute.

Daiki can see his Yuto’s expression and he sighs. “Dude, you can’t assume those stuffs if you haven’t even talked to him like a normal human being would,” Daiki finally takes the popcorn bowl out of Yuto’s hands. “Besides, Ryosuke is always a mess when it comes to acting out of impulses. He hates that but with you—I don’t know, it has always been different.”

Yuto laughs humorless. “That I know very well.”

“No, I’m serious. You are the only one who’s ever been able to draw Ryosuke’s full attention,” Daiki shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing, but Yuto doesn’t feel less confused. “By now you know he’s kind of a determined son of a bitch. Once he sets a goal in his mind, he goes for it and deletes every other thing that might distract him from reaching his goal. That’s how soccer and high school were for him, you know? I mean yeah, he is popular and goes to parties but he also overworks himself and gives more of himself than the rest of us. Just because he wants something. He doesn’t waste energy in other things that might not be worthy."

Inoo seems to understand what Daiki is saying. “But then, he pays attention to Yuto.”

Daiki’s face lights up. “Exactly! And hell of a lot attention, let me tell you. Maybe you’ve never noticed it Yuto, because you’ve known him for not so long ago. But for me, Chinen and Takaki, people who’ve known him for years know, it’s obvious. You are the only one who can mess up with him and actually get him to pay attention to you. Even if you are trashing his very existence, he’s still there, listening to you. And he must notice that tiny detail at some point—that with you he’s not in full control of his emotions, and when that happens, it’s like his brain glitches for a second and collapses. The kiss might be a good example. Or maybe when he punched you back when you did. You get a reaction from him,” Daiki explains. “One that leaves him as lost as you are now.”

For some reason, is not the kiss or the fight or even the way Ryosuke talked to his mother what comes to Yuto’s mind this time.

Is the faint memory of Ryosuke splashing the water of his watercolors on his face, annoyed because Yuto wasn’t listening to him.

Daiki passes him the popcorn bowl, even emptier than it was before. “There you go, then. Now come on, eat some popcorn. I’m not letting you date anyone if you keep getting this skinny.”

He shoves some into Yuto’s mouth but the sweet taste on his tongue is already there.

☼

Yuto is laying on the wooden floor of his room about to doze off when the phone rings, making him jump ten miles into the air. The shrill sound breaks into the silence of the house and it’s about four rings after that Yuto remembers he’s actually alone at home.

With a groan, he stands up and drags his feet all the way down the stairs, bare feet meeting the cold tiles of the living room. He plops on the sofa in a not very graceful way and stretches an arm to reach the phone set, not before checking first on the phone screen the owner of the incoming call.

He picks up. “Hi, you’ve reached the Nakajima's mailbox. We are not home at the moment but if you wish, you can leave a message and we’ll call you back as soon as possible.” Yuto answers. “Except if you are Keito. Until he decides to share the new password of his Netflix account he can take his message and shove it up to his a--”

“I see you are alive,” Keito chuckles. “And what are you talking about, I gave it to you like a week ago.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“Yes, I did, but you were too busy trying to kill your own character in the video game I showed you the last time—you know what, never mind. Are you busy now?”

Here we go again. “Keito, actually I don’t feel like—”

“So, you are not busy. Good, because I’m not gonna ask,” Keito cuts him, and before Yuto could argue again he adds. “My room, in ten. Don’t you dare to be a minute late.”

Yuto is left only with the sound of the dead line, words not coming out of his mouth even though he’s gaping like a fish out of water.

Well. This should be good.

The Okamoto household is approximately fifty-two steps away from Yuto’s house, so even when it takes Yuto some time to find a shirt that doesn’t look like he’s been wearing it for five days straight, he arrives at Keito’s doorway past three minutes. He doesn’t need to knock because Yuto has a copy of the keys, just as Keito has one of his house, enters and goes upstairs when he there’s no sight of Keito on the first floor.

When he pushes the door, he finds Keito repainting the walls of his bedroom emerald green over the previous light blue shade that was painted before. Some big white sheets cover the furniture and the floor, desk and bed pushed to one side of the room and the window is wide open to let the painting smell out. There’s music coming out from his speakers, soft guitar chords from what Yuto recognizes as a Crowded House song.

Yuto can’t help to grin at Keito when he raises his head to look at Yuto, seated on the floor, white shirt filled with tiny and big green stains. Even his cheek has one.

“Thought I’d change it a bit,” Keito explains even though Yuto doesn’t ask. “Since we only have a year left to graduate, I thought it’d be a nice change.”

“Even if you are not planning to stay after graduation?”

By this time, Yuto has mastered the ability to not sound sad whenever that topic comes up. He couldn’t be prouder of his best friend and his dreams of studying abroad but he can’t help but think a part of him will leave with Keito, another empty whole aching in a corner of his chest for years, perhaps. Yuto doesn’t even want to think about the times that’ll come when he doesn’t feel like a whole and his best friend won’t be there to be his backbone.

“Specially doing this because of that,” Keito says. “When I come home, with tons of scripts to read and memorize, stressed to the point I just want to cry, I’ll get home to this,” he looks at his half-way done work. “You know how much green calms me.”

Yuto gets closer. “Need a hand?”

Keito’s smile is enough for him to answer his question.

But here’s the thing about doing things together. Either they go smoothly well or end up in an utter disaster. This time, like 99% of the time, is the later.

Because in the mid of painting, Keito gets thirsty and they go downstairs to drink something, but then they get hungry and make some huge tall sandwiches of all the things growing boys shouldn’t be eating. Like, peanut butter on top of the cheese, combination that gains a disgusted but somehow amazed face from Keito when Yuto eats him in two big bites. And then, a My Chemical Romance song about hopeful summers would come on shuffle and the emo phase of their early teenage years activates like flicking the lights up, using their brushes as microphones and they sing their hearts out along with the verses until they laugh so hard there are actual tears in Yuto’s eyes, feeling so weightless, like a feather in floating in the air.

Both of their dad’s met while they were in college and never lost contact ever since then, so there’s not a single memory of Yuto without Keito by his side. Yuto’s and Keito’s photo albums are filled with both pictures of same birthdays, same play-dates, riding bicycles for the first time, photos of Christmas mornings opening presents together (or more like, Yuto opening them for both of them since Keito was too busy crying because Santa scared him to death. Still does, but he won’t ever admit it.), and the newest pictures would reveal sleepovers, Yuto’s shocked face while Keito was giving him the drumsticks of his first drum, Keito’s aesthetic poses playing the guitar on the beach taken by Yuto’s camera, some nostalgic polaroid photos of corners both their houses, corners in which they used to share all their toys, built up pillow forts, their heights written on the wall to see who’d become taller than the other, and then there would be blank pages, specially reserved to put their high school graduation photos, along with the ones from kindergarten, elementary and middle school, because that’s how things have always been. It’s only logical he’s the only one who seems to know exactly what Yuto needed. Time to think. Time to separate the tangled threads on his head one by one. To hold on tight his hurting heart a bit longer.

Mr. Okamoto comes home before it gets dark, finding them both seated against the part of the wall that has already dried. He doesn’t even get surprised about the mess but that’s okay because he’s always been like that, always never questioning Keito’s ways of expressing himself. He offers to order some take out but they are still with a lump on their stomach from their sandwiches, so he lets them be.

“You have paint in your forehead,” Keito laughs. Yuto touches it.

“We should shower,” he says. He’s not feeling going back to the darkness of his room so the agreement of sleeping here goes unspoken between them.

Keito nods. His features are now softer. “Thank you for coming. I know you’ve been feeling a lot off lately. I just…” he pauses, chooses his words. “I just want you to know you don’t have to go through whatever you are going through alone. I don’t want you to feel like you need to close yourself with us again.”

That is something Yuto had to learn with time, because sometimes the wanting of just locking himself up in his room or run away from everyone just gets way too tempting to avoid it. That’s exactly what happened last summer, when Yuto had the idea to come out to his mother and she turned her back forever at Yuto, making him fall into a downward spiral of self-loathing, wrongness and pure darkness he just put a mute on the world and hid himself in the darkness of his room, of his mind. If it weren’t for all the love his dad, brother and friends managed to made him see, Yuto would have probably reached a point of no return long time ago.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles in the quietness of the afternoon.

But Keito shakes his head firmly. “Never apologize for what you used to feel or what you feel now.”

Sometimes, Yuto believes that the best part of him is within Keito. He also likes to believe he brings out the best of him as well.

The hours melt in the slow afternoon, music still going but it’s only white noise for Yuto. The sunset light coming through the windows showers the green and it looks so beautiful that a Yuto’s chest twist in pain. Longing, Missing.

He misses Ryosuke so _so_ much.

“I think I’m in love with Ryosuke,” Yuto says softly. It doesn’t feel like a confession because Keito’s face doesn’t even move an inch with surprise and that also doesn’t startle Yuto because his best friend probably had figured it out before him.

Keito only leans his head on Yuto’s shoulder and lets out a long sigh.

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

This time, it doesn’t take long for Yuto to answer, an easy heartbeat. “Yeah. I think I will,” but then, and because insecurities come like this sometimes, raw and without helping to just spill them out to taint the most genuine wishes, Yuto says. “I know we kind of started on the wrong foot and that we are not alike, but—”

“Don’t mind about that,” Keito stops him and looks his directly in the eyes. “Don’t let that blind you, it doesn’t matter. Listen to me, Yuto. It doesn’t matter,” he marks every word slowly. “The only thing that matters is if you are happy. Are you happy?”

Yuto nods.

A fond smile appears on Keito’s face. “Everything is going to be so much better now, I promise,” Keito assures him.

Yuto closes his eyes, lets his head rest against the wall and believes him.

☼

**Ryosuke:**

hey

**Yuto:**

hey

**Ryosuke:**

how have you been?

**Yuto:**

fine i guess

had to watch mamma mia with inoo and daiki

5 times

they said if i I watched it 5 times it would clean my soul

still can't feel the effects tho

**Ryosuke:**

yeah,

daiki told me

**Yuto:**

oh

**Ryosuke:**

yeah

**Yuto:**

… what else did he tell you?

**Ryosuke:**

can we meet?

i need to talk to you

properly, this time

**Yuto:**

sure

when are you coming back from your grandma’s?

**Ryosuke:**

got back two days ago

**Yuto:**

okay

**Ryosuke:**

can we meet now?

I know it’s very sudden but 

i need

**Yuto:**

no it’s fine

at the beach?

**Ryosuke:**

please

**Yuto:**

see you in five

☼

Yuto Nakajima is a person who used to belong to summer. As a kid, it’d be his favorite season to go out to play with Keito, ride his bicycle until the sun disappeared in the horizon, the chirping sound of crickets and fireflies at night would lull him to sleep without having the fear of waking up in the middle of the darkness and being unable to go back to sleep.

It has been years since Yuto had felt like that. Like he was made to love summer, because it got reduced to people leaving, absent warmth and darkness.

So, when Yuto catches Ryosuke’s figure on the beach from the seaside path, walking bare feet on the sand, his silhouette contrasting with the orange sea, a thousand diamonds moving along with the waves—he forgets for a moment the reason why he was scared in the first place. If things don’t go as planned and he’s left with a one-sided summer love, it’ll be okay. He won’t be fine, he won’t pretend like it won’t hurt, but this summer he has been reminded that there's so much love around him. He’s not afraid of the fall this time, because he knows now there would be more than one hand reaching out to help him stand up.

But he’s done with mistakes for now. He’s done with hiding his feelings. With not taking chances.

The sand is warm and soft around his feet, but as he gets closer to the shore where Ryosuke is, the wet surface crumbles with faint cracks that get muted with the dull hiss of the waves. Yuto keeps his eyes fixed on the ephemeral sunset sky, some clouds reflecting the yellows and pinks near the sun and everything is incredibly gentle. A contrast of Yuto’s sweaty hands, nervous mess he is right now. 

He arrives next to Ryosuke, but he doesn’t say a word to him, eyes fixed in something beyond the sea and for a moment, it feels like there’s actually nothing to say between them and this is just a walk by the beach shore. The water almost touches his feet, white foam tickling the tip of his toe. Yuto watches it recede. He raises his head and finally, looks at Ryosuke.

Yuto has already lost count of the times he's found himself admiring Ryosuke, from afar, from close, from the point of view of a sunset crushing over his skin, gold blooming on the honey of his soft hair. Yuto wonders if it was love back then, from all the times he had lost himself staring at him, he wonders if even before realizing he was in love there was already the thought of Ryosuke in a corner of his heart. So beautiful he thinks there can't be any other moment he could outdone himself. And every single time, like this very moment, he proves Yuto wrong.

When Ryosuke speaks is with the sound of the waves crushing as a background song, and for a moment Yuto had even forgotten he wasn’t the one who had requested to speak.

“I never apologized, you know,” he says, eyes still fixed in the horizon. “For punching you that day.”

That—that wasn’t even an option when Yuto listed on his head the kind of topics Ryosuke could talk about. Hell, he didn’t even consider it as an option between them in, like, whatever their dynamic is now. It’s disconcerting. It’s wrong.

“What are you talking about,” Yuto murmurs, an awkward chuckle out on the air. “If anything, I was the one who should apologize for that, ‘cause I started it.”

“I also apologize for the time when we were kids and I splashed my watercolor water on your face.”

“Are you seriously going to make this a competition? There are more apologizes where mine came from, just so you know.”

That makes Ryosuke break in a smile, but it still looks a bit sad.

He keeps talking about it, though. “I remember being so mad that day. You were doing these thing—you still do it nowadays, though—drumming with the brushes and pencil colors on whatever you found. But you weren't listening to me when I told you to finish our painting,” it almost sounds like he’s talking to himself. “But it didn’t start there.”

Yuto's heart beats fast. “What didn't stat there?

Ryosuke looks at him. Yuto looks back. 

He knows what Ryosuke is talking about.

Ryosuke's eyes go back to the ocean and he breathes in. Then out.

“Wanting to chase you. Wanting to gain your attention. I thought you were the coolest kid in our class, always having this weird ideas that somehow worked and singing the loudest but with the biggest smile, and you were always in the first place whenever we did race competitions during breaks, or the one who reached the highest when he jumped out of the swing,” he say. “Fearless, determinate. I wanted to be like you _so bad._ ” 

Seagulls pass in a flash across the sky. There’s now a golden halo around the sun.

“Then, I entered in elementary school and never saw you again,” he continues. “Although I was shy, I had a very clear idea of the type of kid I wanted to be for the others. I was the one that smiled the brightest, the one that sang the loudest. It’s embarrassing to say it now but there were even times when I had to face little problems and I couldn't help to ask myself ' _what would Yuto do in this situation?'_ ”

Yuto’s feet plays with some pebbles on the sand, trying to ignore the way his heart seems to shake with every word coming out of Ryosuke’s mouth, a thousand of things threatening to just escape from his mouth, because what is this. _What is this._

A small smile appears on Ryosuke’s face. “But soon enough I understood I had to be myself to deal with it. That was the answer. It was hard, since I was a kid, but I learnt that I liked to be myself. That I had freedom in my actions that people thought it was determination.”

“Then everything went down when we saw in high school again, right?” Yuto can’t help to say. This is too much, especially because he feels closer now, invisible magnetic force narrowing the space between them. It’s a lump Yuto can seem to swallow because he knows he must had let Ryosuke down the very moment they exchanged words again, in high school.

“No,” Ryosuke states. Pauses. “I saw you years earlier before.”

Yuto snaps his head at him again so hard it pains his neck, pure confusion reflected on his face.

“I didn't mean to, that’s the only thing I have to say in my defense," Ryosuke chuckles but he's nervous. "I even had sort of forgotten about you by the time I was in middle school. But one day I stepped outside, on my balcony, and looked at the beach and—there you were again, I recognized you even between all the people that were on the beach that afternoon. You were taller than I remembered, taller than life, a camera around your neck that you were holding, trying to capture the best angle of a sunset. You started to show up in the same spot on the sand almost every day,” he says and Yuto remembers that. Of course he does. "I was always finding myself trying to make up an excuse on my head to go out the balcony coincidentally by the same hour you happened to be around. At first, it was clear that you didn’t know how to properly hold a camera because there was so much insecurity in your movements but then you started to get better, more secure of what you were doing. I saw passion grew in your body language, sometimes when I was lucky enough and caught a glimpse of your face. And,” his voice shakes a bit, but Yuto doesn’t think he’s going to cry. Maybe for him this is too much, too. “And that spoke a thousand to things to me. I know all this sounds kind of creepy and you are probably weird out but middle school wasn’t particularly flowers and rainbows for me. I was surrounded with so many questions without answers, about myself and what I could become and what the hell was that infamous passion everyone was talking about,” he turns to look at Yuto for the first time. “But then, I could see it in you.”

The only thing Yuto can do now is look back. Look at him like _he_ is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to him, even though Yuto feels like burning inside under the light of the sun.

“When I saw you come in on the first day of freshman year at high school, I swear to God, I was almost shaking on my seat,” he laughs and Yuto smiles with him, because he can’t help it. “You didn’t recognize me when the teacher called my name but it was fine, I didn’t actually think you would. Although there was this hope inside me to be your friend one day. To tell you how much it meant to me the fact that I had known you, even from a distant point of view, even if for you it didn’t mean anything. You never know how much impact you can have in other people's lives without even meaning to.”

“But I called you an asshole,” Yuto says and oh dear Lord, how he’s regretting it now. Wishes the sun could burn him enough to turn him into dust. “The first thing I said when I met you.”

Ryosuke nods slowly. “Because it turned out you did recognize me in the end,” he says. “The asshole that washed you in colorful water in kindergarten.”

It’s amazing when you see things from a different perspective and the worst of all is that Yuto should know that by now. He remembers it, Ryosuke approaching to his desk, smile on his face as he asked him “ _don’t you remember me?”,_ a question that seemed strange but tasted like mockery when he realized that yes, he did remember him. But the truth was completely different. It was a question that could have turned into something good, really good. Something so amazing Yuto wouldn’t even have words to describe it.

He really shouldn't be surprised about himself at this point, but _wow._

“I’m the worst,” Yuto concludes, hopeless. “The absolutely fucking worst at making decisions.”

Ryosuke takes a stone in his hands and throws it at the ocean, but it just plops into the water. Yuto digs his feet in the sand, wishing he could do the same with some of the heavy _what if’s_ that are forming on his head. A world of possibilities shattering right in front of his eyes.

“Why are you telling me this?” Yuto asks after a moment.

Ryosuke doesn’t throw the next stone. He keeps it between his hands, rolling it on his palms as he bites his lips. "I don’t want us to be like it was before summer break,” he confesses, his voice melting in the sound of the waves. “I don’t—I don’t think I could handle that.”

He look like we wants to say something more, but it dies when he finally throws the last stone in his hands.

“I don’t want that either,” Yuto says

“You don’t?” Ryosuke meets his gaze in an instant, almost shocked. “Even after what I—after… all the stuff I said, after years of being against each other?” and it sounds so hopeful and genuine, Yuto finds himself smiling fondly.

“I don’t,” Yuto says again and the relief expression that passes across Ryosuke’s face it’s almost contagious. He crosses his arms, holding his body to keep himself as a whole.

Ryosuke opens his mouth and closes it again. The sun is dying in front of them and there’s more blue melting with the last remains of red in the sky. Then, Ryosuke faces Yuto again, but this time his arms are not crossed and there’s a shift in his eyes. It looks a lot like courage.

“There’s another thing I need to tell you,” he says and that makes Yuto’s heart flutter for some reason that might have to do with the step Ryosuke makes forward. Towards him. Yuto doesn’t step back when Ryosuke reaches and touches the side of his arm because it’s the most down to earth thing in the world, a golden sensation where their skins meet and the sudden need to tell him I love you—I love you, I love you, _I love you_ , even if it’s like this, even if he’s late, even if in his eighteen years of existence he’s been chasing sunsets with his eyes closed, because the thing he wants the most in this very moment is there, shining right in front of his eyes.

“Whenever you feel like the weight of the world is crushing you, or even if it’s something simple, like just helping you with an exam, or—or remind you that you are the most incredible person and that there’s nothing wrong with you… I’m going to be there for you. If you’ll have me. And even if you don’t, I’m gonna try, because you know I’m stubborn and you—you have no idea how much I want this, because—because I…”

The hand on his arm is shaking so Yuto puts his own hand over it. Ryosuke stares at it for a moment and then breathes in. Yuto can literally see the air turning into light as he does.

Ryosuke parts his lips again and there is no world. There is no notion of space or time.

It’s only them.

“Because, I’m in love with you. I’ve been—for so long, you have _no idea_ , and it’s been getting bigger and bigger to the point I can’t believe it. Because it’s so easy. Natural. Like it was always meant to be like this and in this way,” the grip around his arm get a bit tighter but Yuto doesn’t know if it might actually be him because in this moment he can’t even tell where they begin or where they end. “I should have told you, back there when I kissed you outside the bar that night, but—I didn’t know… I was scared, _so_ scared,” he looks at Yuto like he’s the answer but he’s wrong. Because the answer is in him. “I don’t want to be scared anymore.”

He leans in and presses a light kiss on Yuto’s lips. A mere touch of seconds that manages to contain the whole meaning of _everything_. And at this point, Yuto should start to teach his heart to beat in the same rhythm of Ryosuke’s heart if it’s going to keep trying to get out of his chest.

But Ryosuke pulls back and it’s cold suddenly. Like, ice bucket challenge cold, because he not only stops kissing him, he also takes the warmth of his hand away and there’s almost an animal need to grab his hand again and tell him _no, please, no, don’t go away, do it again._

“I’m sorry, I—I did it again,” he mumbles, eyes not meeting Yuto’s. He looks like the entire word nervous. “But I had to… I _needed_ you to know—God, I’m so stupid. I keep leaving you without any options to even react or say something—not like, you need to say something, it’s just. I needed you to know.”

“Ryosuke,” Yuto doesn’t know where he finds his voice but it trembles and it burns.

“Like, when I kissed you that night and I’m doing it again. You know what? I get it if you don’t want anything to do with me now, I’ll understand even though I won’t lie, it’d be kind of awful, oh my God please don’t hate me again—”

“Hey, Ryosuke. Wait—”

He’s turning back. He’s walking _away_.

_Not on my fucking watch_ , Yuto thinks.

Here’s how Yuto pictured it in his head for a full second. He’d grab Ryosuke by the arm and would turn him around until they were facing each other again, and he’d kiss him with the beautiful summer scenery as a background and some very sap 80’s love song would play on his head as Yuto confessed his eternal love.

That’s: expectations.

Here’s _reality._

Yuto doesn’t grab Ryosuke’s hand, he _yanks_ it with such a sudden movement that it makes Ryosuke turn around with wide eyes, not because of the strength of Yuto’s grasp but because his feet somehow slip on the sand, taking Yuto with him on the ground in an attempt to hold on something to steady himself. The air gets knocked out of their lungs when they hit the solid wet sand, staring wide-eyed at each other, heavy breathing, Yuto realizing that he has Ryosuke absolutely pinned on the ground although he’s trying to rest his weight on his arms that are at either side of Ryosuke’s head in order to not crush him, legs messily tangled.

Could this have gone better? Yeah. Does the world hate Yuto? Fuck yeah.

Is he going to take a step back?

Absolutely no.

“How can you _possibly_ think I don’t love you back?”

Ryosuke gapes, chest rising and falling with heavy breathings. “I—I don’t know.”

“I kissed you back that night, idiot.”

“I thought you were, like, responding by instinct. Or ‘cause, hum, the situation? Like—situational kissing?”

Yuto blinks “What is that supposed to even mean?”

“Um. Yeah, I mean, it can happen I guess—since I kissed you pretty hard and maybe I didn’t get you a chance to think about a proper respond but just, kissing back or...or something like that?”

Yuto pecks him on the lips. Ryosuke doesn’t even get a chance to close his eyes.

“Did that look like ‘situational kissing’ to you?" Yuto smiles with all the love he has inside. "Have you ever thought, in that little head of yours, that _maybe_ , just maybe, there’s the possibility that I wanted to kiss you too? That I’ve been head over heels for you in a way that has been driving me crazy this whole summer?” Ryosuke’s eyes stare at Yuto’s and they are a bit glassy, overflowing with emotion. “That I love you just as much as you love me? Wouldn’t that be—”

_Wouldn’t it be amazing?_

Yuto smiles, adoration in his voice. “Wouldn’t that be _fucking_ amazing?”

Ryosuke caresses Yuto’s left cheek and Yuto can’t help to think that this is it. This has to be how having a bit of sunset in his hands must feel like.

“Yeah,” Ryosuke breathes. “It would.”

This time, when they kiss again, both of them melt into it and Yuto makes sure to do it with every unspoken word he’s ever hidden from him, careful, slow moving, parting his soft lips as he takes a hold of his jaw, every little remain of unsteady feelings finally settling. Yuto takes memory of the way Ryosuke wraps his arms around his neck until their noses brush together in the most tender way, some of the remaining golden sun rays passing through the very few spaces they are not touching.

There’s no rush in the kiss this time. There’s no need to prove something to the other, so Yuto moves his lips slow and deep and with so _so_ much of the silent love he had been growing on his chest, like the seed of a tree. Ryosuke runs his fingers through Yuto’s hair to keep him close in a way that makes Yuto feel like he really can’t be away from him because it would probably hurt him physically, the other hand tracing circles on Yuto’s back to his ribs, a shiver running through Yuto’s spine at such soft, gentle and intimate touch, so Yuto chases his lips one more time, and then again and again and _again_ —

“Wow,” Ryosuke giggles breathlessly between kisses. “Are you okay?”

“Shut up.”

“Gladly.”

Yuto moves his hand to guide Ryosuke’s lips and bring them against his own again, Ryosuke searching for his other hand until he finds, getting lost in the kiss as he laces their fingers together, holding them tight. The breeze gets a bit cold around them but Yuto concludes (or the only coherent brain cell in charge today) that it could start to rain and he wouldn’t give a fuck, honestly. But then, Ryosuke makes a noise against Yuto’s mouth sounding a bit like frustration.

“Water,” Ryosuke mumbles.

“What,” Yuto kisses him again.

Ryosuke pulls away. “The tide. I can feel the foam and it’s tickling my feet.”

“Who cares about your feet,” Yuto jokes.

Which it turns to be a really _really_ bad idea because it makes Ryosuke pout and Yuto dies a little. He wants to bite it but then he remembers he actually can, so he does it. Ryosuke chuckles against his mouth.

“Alright, alright,” Yuto sighs, pecks Ryosuke again and finally stands up, offering a hand to help Ryosuke, who takes it.

Once they are face to face again, Yuto admires the way Ryosuke’s hair is messy and his cheeks are still pink and his lips are still red and _holy shit, I did that._ It really happened. The weight of what just happened is starting to sink in and Yuto can't, for the love of God, remain quiet in his place.

“You have, huh, sand in your hair,” he reaches and takes the sand away from Ryosuke’s golden locks. His hand shakes a bit.

“Why are you nervous?” Ryosuke asks, curious and amused.

“I think I’m still processing,” his hands move trying to explain. “This. All this.”

Ryosuke hums. “Maybe we should go. Are you free now?”

“Thought I’d spend the entire night moping about how you don’t love me back but I can gladly say that’s been cancelled.”

“Do you want to go to my house? There’s no one until tomorrow—”

“Oh my god.”

Ryosuke laughs hard and hit him in the chest. “I’m not talking about—doing anything, you idiot! I had to come back some days earlier because practices already began,” he explains. “We can play video games or watch a movie, or maybe I can show you my Taylor Swift collection since now I know you are familiar with some of the songs—”"

"That’s such a terrible date,” Yuto takes his hand and starts walking. “I love it.”

“So we are dating now?” Ryosuke teases but Yuto can see an entire galaxy shining in his eyes at the idea. “You have to say it to make it real, you know?”

Yuto rolls his eyes but his chest might explode of fondness. “Will you go out with me?”

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“I’m literally going to choke you.”

“Wow, kinky.”

Yuto snorts. But then steps forward, hand still closed over Ryosuke’s and he puts him forward by the waist, foreheads pressing against each other. “Will you go out with me, Yamada?”

The smile Ryosuke gives him could light up the whole sky again.

“Yes, Nakajima.”

This is how it goes: They will start making out the second they step inside Ryosuke’s house, not even caring about turning the lights on so they’ll just keep stumbling in the darkness until Yuto will hits the back of his legs with the couch, making them fall into it, laughing breathlessly between tender kisses and warm touches. Yuto’s heart will keep skipping beats as he holds him and Ryosuke will nuzzle the base of his neck with his nose and then he will go back to the home he’s made in Yuto’s lips, adoration dripping from the spaces they don’t want to be apart, parallel heartbeats that are just getting to learn how to be in sync and Yuto will know—he’ll know he could die in this very moment. That he could kiss Ryosuke forever.

They’ll stay there until it gets completely dark, until it’s so late they don’t even know if it’s midnight hour and Ryosuke will fall asleep lulled by the steady rise and fall of their breathing, curled up on the couch with a blanket Yuto managed to cover themselves, the smell of sweet strawberries and golden hair and the taste of honey in the curves of his lips filling Yuto’s senses, making him ache in a way that will have him wonder if this is real. He will look at their hands, fingers still intertwined and will feel the solid weight, so welcoming, so unbelievable. He'll wish someone could have told him that in the end it was going to be like this, it was going to be okay, that all the sleepless nights and risking moves would lead up to this very moment.

And even though he knows there will be days when everything will be bad and he’ll feel like there’s no way of getting up from bed, darkness so crushing and overwhelming, days when he will swear to himself that he doesn’t deserve this, that he’s going to fuck up everything in the end—there will be people who will also hold his hand and show him the way out, the beauty that comes with take a leap of faith with yourself and win, to ignore that voice in his head that only leads him to streets without escape.

Because there’s nothing wrong with making mistakes or feeling lost. The most important thing is to keep looking. Keep searching for answers. Sometimes he’s going to have them, sometimes he won’t and there will be time when the ones he believed were right might turn into a completely different thing. Sometimes it will be better if he doesn’t know the answer. But he won’t let himself be still. He’ll keep moving. Keep chasing sunsets and watch them die at the end of the day. He’s going to welcome darkness like a friend that’s coming for a short visits, just so say hi, just to remind him that it’s part of him too. And that will be alright. I’ll be okay. He won’t let his gaze fall. Always looking up and will never forget that the sun will rise again.

(edit: the [playlist (:](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3iJfjXLQCp9mjptTxE41so) as I was writing, for anyone interested c: )

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a hoe for the whole "Yamada falls in love first" trope, sue me.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading c:


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